Blank
by Prissy and Bregan
Summary: Saleem stands over Ziva with insidious intent in his eyes. Her knife gleams in his hand. She can barely pray to live for another day. Waking up, it is ten years in the future. Her mind is blank and she doesn't remember life after her aliyah to Israel.
1. Waking Up To A New Life

**Disclaimer-Don't own it, but I plan to someday...ha ha ha**

**Right, so I got this idea a while back, idk how or where and it's been plaguing me. I'm actually supposed to be doing a different story right now and I feel horrible for posting a new one instead of working on that one, but I just HAD to get this one out of my head. It was like a really catchy song that you need to sing out to the end if you're ever going to move on. I actually had this plot based out for two different characters almost three years ago and I noticed-recently-how much better it would be to throw a bit of Tiva at the concept.**

**Anyway, in this story, 1st person is always going to be Ziva. If it's in third person, she generally is not present in that scene.**

**It's generally going to be canon, but it takes place in the future, so AU, I suppose, technically.**

**Well, without further ado, I present the first chapter of Blank:**

**Waking Up To A New Life**

*

I'm sitting on my porch swing with my mother. She's fat with Tali and my head is on her stomach, listening to my baby sister's movements as my mother strokes my hair and sings a lullaby to me. My eyelids grow heavy with sleep and I barely register my father's arrival. He kisses me on the forehead and gently carries me to my bed, finishing my mother's lullaby in a strong baritone. My last thought before I fall to sleep is how much I love my family.

*

"Come _on_, Ziya!" Wahid yells over at me, rolling his eyes as I stop to glance at my untied shoe. Wahid is a year older than me and thinks gives him the right to be in charge. He doesn't know that I just let him be in charge.

"Ziya!" He yells again, using his name for me, which is really an Arabic boy's name. I was just happy to be treated as one of the boys. And as Wahid's best friend, he made sure I was in all the football games and other boy games.

"I _am_ coming!" I shout back at him, "I just need to tie my shoe!"

"I'm not waiting for you!" He screams back at me, his smile broad, "But I'll save your spot!" He turns back around to walk across the street to where the movie theatre line was getting crowded. We had saved our money for two weeks to see an action movie.

I was admiring how perfectly I'd made the bows on my shoe when the explosion came. Looking up dumbly, I saw the fire, the debris. I heard the screaming and I ran away in the pandemonium.

I thought Wahid had run too, to go hide in our fort. We built one in my backyard, a small lean-to next to an orange tree and a few palms. I ran to meet Wahid and my heart was racing. He wasn't there and still I didn't react. I thought he'd come home crying to his mommy like a baby. I planned to tease him about it later.

It wasn't until I came outside and heard his mother's sobs. They were the anguished cries of a mother who lost her baby. I knew what had happened to my best friend: An act of terrorism.

My mother sang me the same lullaby that night as I sobbed for Wahid, my tears dampening the pillow as my throat ached for relief.

*

"You look beautiful, Ziva." Shmuel looks at me, grinning cheerfully. He still doesn't know how to brush his hair in the back and I wonder why I'm doing this with him. But Tali sighs romantically as she smiles at me and my mother begs me to come closer to Shmuel, holding up her camera. Of course, I am doing it for them. Otherwise I would've told Shmuel a very different sentiment when he asked me to the dance.

Unhesitating, Shmuel places his hand right on my butt, just holding it there and I freeze. _Imma_ tells me to smile and Tali laughs, grabbing my arm to smell the limp white corsage Shmuel has brought for me.

Ari walks over with a pasted smile, "Let me have a picture with Ziva and Shmuel!" He calls out heartily and my mother acquiesces, just delighted to see me in a dress for once. My date was just the icing on her cake.

Especially Shmuel Rubenstein, the boy of my mother's dreams. He's planning to become a teacher after serving his time in IDF and is always nothing more than charming and polite.

He just also happens to be very _handsy_. And his actions aren't exactly welcome, but I am plotting my revenge in my head. If he tries anything in the car or at the dance, I can just use the pressure points on him that my father taught me.

Ari plucks Shmuel's hand away as if it was nothing and puts his over my shoulder, kissing me on the cheek,

"Boy's got a weak right ankle." He mutters as he draws away, smiling easily for the camera.

I laugh at his statement, my first genuine smile of the night and the one my mother captures. With satisfaction, she allows me to leave to go to my first dance. Relief in the air, Shmuel escorts me to his car and we wave good bye to my family, especially Tali who screams that she must know _everything_ that happened to me. Her curly hair tangles in the wind and her eyes shine brighter as I promise to reveal all my adventures later that night.

The dance was fun. Wild, certainly, and I danced with Shmuel as well as a few other boys. He didn't try to grab anything and I actually felt a real smile creeping on my face at times.

Driving me home, he kissed me and I let him. Even then, his hands didn't go anywhere near my body and I asked him why, afterwards. He turns red and explains that apparently Ari had a few memorable words to say to him.

I laugh and kiss him again.

Somehow, of all the boys in the world, Shmuel Rubenstein ended up being my first kiss.

*

"Oh!" Tali jumps as the lightening booms down again. Whimpering, she gets out of her bed and burrows her way into mine. I growl at first, annoyed, because Tali takes up too much space in my tiny bed and she's fourteen years old. She should be used to thunderstorms by now.

She never liked them, because they sound like bombs to her. Tali is the sensitive soul in my family and I think everyone loved her all the more for her. Father always dotes on her, letting her dance on his feet and telling her that she is his baby girl.

I think about telling Tali that if she is going to be such a little girl, she can go and sleep with our parents.

"Zeev?" Tali's tiny voice peeps up and I cannot help but smile, hearing it. My sister is my weakness and I turn around to see her invading my space. Her eyes are pretty unlike my plain brown. Smooth cobalt with streaks of golden brown blink in the dark gaze at me and I smile at her, despite my exhaustion.

"What?" I ask wearily, closing my eyes again. It has been a long day just to arrive home again for the holidays and I'm eager for sleep, as Tali can tell.

"Is it scary?" She whispered, burrowing into me as the lightening sounded again. I laugh and hug her tightly, giving her a kiss on the head. She's scared of the IDF. Guns too, no matter how much my father has tried to 'numb' her. Ari and I took to these weapons like fish to water, but Tali was different.

"Yeah, but I'm doing the most amazing thing anyone can do." I remind her lightly, "I'm serving my country."

Tali nods, sniffling, "I wish I was as brave as you, Ziva."

I don't say anything. Personally, I wish I was as easy to love as Tali is. Instead, I just let her sleep in my bed and we both sing pop songs from the radio to get her mind off the thunderstorm.

*

"Tali's dead." My father says simply as I sit in his office, Ari next to me.

Ari had been shaking his foot until my father made that statement. He went still at that moment and I looked at my father's grim face, unable to believe it.

"_Mah?"_ I croak softly, thinking I can't have heard what I did hear.

My father glances at me, knowing I've heard what he said, "It's a roadside bombing from what I understand. She was driving with Inbal to school and-" He breaks off and hands us both the file, "It happened two hours ago. Yafa's at home right now and I need you, Ziva, to be with your mother right now."

His gaze flickers over to Ari, who has adapted a stony look on his face. I nod shakily and stand up, squeezing Ari's hand before I leave the room. The tears don't fall down my face until that night.

*

"_Oy gesalt, zout Avi_!" Someone yells and I jerk up, hearing my boyfriend's name.

Avi Gershonowitz makes me laugh more than anyone else in the world and has wild curly hair that he lets me play with. We surf on the weekends, dance on weeknights, and make love the rest of the time. Every time I look at him, I feel like I'm falling in love all over again.

In fact, the smile on my face has become so commonplace that Mossad is started to notice that I'm incapable of keeping my face straight unless I put a real effort in it.

"_Avi po?"_ I call out, eyes alighting. Avi was on an undercover detail but I thought he snuck away to see me. However, I knew the truth when I saw his head.

And nothing else.

I thought I would be sick. In fact, I was. Very much so, now that I recall it.

The tears came at night, though not as noisily or in great quantity.

*

Nitzan Schwartzer pushed me out of the way and I saw bullets go through her. She saved my life.

*

A Mossad operative nearly went bad, but we manage to eliminate the leader of the terrorist group. I'm shot and the bullet grazes my arm. Ari missed. He turns back to his terrorist buddies. I pant and stare at my brother, wondering if he'd done it on purpose.

*

Shmuel Rubenstein gets married and I end up being a bridesmaid, as his future wife happens to be one of my closest friends. They marry with a promise to love each other until death.

The next day, I saw the newspaper with a giant headline reading: "Suicide Bomber Takes Out Newlyweds"

*

Jenny screams, terrified as I do a hairpin turn on the road. Laughing, I turn up the radio and sing to one of the songs that Tali used to love-Malachi Shamayim. It means Angels of the Skies.

"_Ahavat adam hi leholam…"_

With a start, I hear Jenny singing along, her eyes tightly closed and her seat reclined. Even so, she is grinning broadly too as her head bobs to the undeniably catchy beat.

*

I see a handsome agent with a five o'clock shadow, his eyes glazed. He talks out to the air, to an imaginary friend, perhaps. He sees me and shuts off speaker on his phone. It intrigues me.

I cut through his awkward attempt to look busy, curious:

"Are you having phone sex?"

*

I line my gun up with Ari's head, shaking to see if I can truly do this. He shot me once, but missed. Hopefully, I will not miss.

I have my father's orders and I have my heart telling me that Ari is one of _them_: The people that murdered my baby sister, the bad men. One who kills people that I love.

If the day has come that I have to kill my family, than I think it's time for a small change of plans.

*

Tony is on the other side of my door holding up a movie. I let him in as he starts doing his synopsis and go to order the traditional pizza-half sausage and pepperoni for him, extra cheese and olives for me.

*

I fall in love like a bird rises in the air, only I chose to fall in love with a dead man walking.

I hold his bright watch-cap and take it with me to go running the next day.

*

Jeanne accuses Tony of murder only to confess that it is not Tony.

She is coming toward him…for him?

He looks at me with a silent inquiry after shutting me out for weeks.

I tell him to be a man.

*

Jenny dies. Blood is pooled around her and I feel sick.

*

Michael kisses me underneath the stars. He was supposed to walk me to my car, but explains that I just looked too pretty _not_ to kiss.

I laugh and invite him home.

*

Tony pants, staring up at me with his gun and I stare at the body of my dead boyfriend.

*

Saleem looks at me, a cruel smile on his face as he holds up my knife. I raise my neck resolutely, trying not to think about the green eyes that seem to be in the back of my mind since the day I met him, practically.

*

For a second, I think that I'm blind, because everything is black around me. Than I realize that I haven't opened my eyes yet. And my head's throbbing. I'm drifting in and out, these random memories filtering through my head so fast I can barely make sense of them.

My skin feels like sandpaper and my throat is dry like sawdust has settled into it. Foreign smells greet my olfactory senses as I try to figure out why I smell the overbearing scent of alcohol-based hand sanitizer and chemically based lemons.

I can feel an IV drip in my hand, and I can hear footfalls around the room. Murmured voices are talking, but I can barely make them out. Everything is jumbled up. Soft beeping is near me, and they speed up as I struggle to find answers, searching my memory and confronted only with Saleem's ugly face as his hand connects with my skull.

My training tells me that all these signs are of a hospital. An American one at that, as this is not an Israeli hospital. Everyone speaks English, for one. For two, I know, instinctively, when I am in Israel.

It is hard to explain how, but there is a part of me that I left behind in Israel and whenever I come home again, it is there, like the missing circle in a chain that links the whole thing together. It does not matter if there is blood on this circlet, it is still the keystone piece.

How did I get into a hospital? My only conclusion is that Saleem hit me with such force that I blacked out and later, NCIS saved me. Otherwise, I would be dead now. Father would not have risked trying to rescue me from such a dead end, but NCIS has such hubris.

And I am grateful for it.

Gathering my energy, I rip my eyes open, half-prepared to see Saleem's cruel face leering at mine, though I know I am miles away from the man.

There is no one. Only an empty room greets me.

How did I get here? NCIS must have rescued me…I think. There is a small swell of happiness that opens up inside me as I think of my friends: Gibbs, McGee, Abby…and even Tony.

I think of that airplane flying away, Tony and Gibbs on board. I had nothing but anger then, but now I just miss them. I miss both of them.

"Oh!" A nurse discovers me, startled. She pulls out my chart and smiles cheerfully,

"Well, it's good to see you awake. You've had a lot of people worrying about you,"

I smile, positive that it is indeed my former team who has rescued me from hell.

"Ho-" I stop and start coughing. The nurse hands me a glass of water, smiling kindly. I sip it slowly, my head throbbing like it'd done when I stole a bottle of my father's scotch to drink with my friends.

That was a fun night. I was sixteen and half in love with an Arabic boy named Rasheed. He had these gorgeous eyes that made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. He'd dared me to steal the scotch and we joined a few other mutual friends, including Shmuel, who was in love with Rahel, one of my best friends. I managed to drink a few glasses, and my head was pleasantly numb.

I woke up the next day at five in the morning, half naked and Shmuel next to me (thankfully) wearing his pants. The headache that followed was almost half as bad as the one I currently entertained.

"What happened?" I ask quietly, grateful for the cool water that brings life back to my throat.

"You're experiencing some post-traumatic amnesia. That's very normal for this kind of situation." The nurse explains to me kindly, "So don't be too surprised if you don't remember the last few days. I'm going to get the doctor for you and he's going to talk to you."

I nod, "Have I had any visitors?" I inquire

She chuckles, "Does the Pope pray?" She waves to the room and I notice, for the first time, the extraordinary amount of flowers everywhere. And cards line the window. The closest vase is on my bedside table. Dark purple irises, like they have in Israel. The beaches were lined with them.

Tali used to pick these flowers and bring them home to our mother. She'd press them between random books and forget about them later.

I still remember opening my siddur (after nearly three years of avoiding temple) in synagogue for Yom Kippur and discovering neatly pressed purple petals. Tali's flower. She'd been dead almost a year at that point.

There is also a drawing of scribbles that I can barely make out. There's a head, I think, and a smiling face. A few Hebrew letters are on the card, but I can't make out any specific words. It is probably from one of my friend's children. I suspect Tikvah's son, as I am his godmother. But I am surprised that Uri can color at only eight months old. Then again, it could be my cousin's daughter. I was at Razi's fourth birthday party a month ago.

At least I think it's been a month.

*

In the McGee household, the man of the house was currently flipping pancakes while the children clapped and called out special orders for theirs. Three of the kids were at the counter, watching McGee with admiration while the two babies banged away on their high chairs and Abby fed them with expertise, laughing as she did it.

"Are you taking us to school, Uncle Tim?" David asked, taking another swallow of his heavily syruped pancakes. He had been fairly subdued for the last few days, but nobody could blame him.

McGee nodded, "Yeah, but Tony's going to call first and tell everybody the latest news. Katie, what do you want on this one? Blueberries or strawberries?"

Katie, who had her father's cherub-cheeks and Abby's mega-watt smile, broke out into a grin, "Both. Silly question, Daddy,"

"And you, Sophers?" McGee added, glancing over to Sophie who just made a little face

"Pony pancake, _por favor_" She said, clutching her raggedy pink baby-blanket. Sophie always had a hard time leaving her 'Smeeka' behind, but now that she hadn't seen Ziva in a week, she was all but surgically attached to the thing. Abby couldn't even get it laundered these days.

"Okay, but first you have to let Aunt Abby clean your Smeeka. You'll have it back before you're finished with your pancake." McGee promised. Abby had been upset about the health hazard of that ratty pink blanket, as it'd been dragged through dirt, sand, grass as well as Sophie's mouth.

"_Lo_." Sophie stuck her bottom lip out and her big brown eyes seemed to get bigger, like Bambi. She had a small smattering of freckles on her pale skin, and her mousy brown hair made people see Tony in her. But McGee mostly saw Ziva, especially in the eyes. But Sophie had a heart-shaped face and her mother's stubbornness. In fact, the only person who could take Sophie on was the same man who could challenge Ziva and get away alive and mostly unhurt: Tony DiNozzo.

Abby had tried to take Smeeka from Sophie when she fell asleep, but the girl had an iron vise with her Smeeka, despite the fact that she could barely wield a pair of scissors.

McGee sighed, "Fine, no pancake for you."

"_Ani rotzah a mi Mama!_" Sophie said instead, crossing her arms,

McGee turned to David who just rolled his eyes,

"She says that she wants her mommy." He took another bite of his pancake as Sophie continued to glare at McGee.

McGee couldn't believe he was being bested by a four year old, but at least he comforted himself with the thought that it was a phenomenon that only occurred with Sophie. Katie, though five months older, could barely glare at a plant without bursting out in laughter.

"Timmy look! Jett doesn't have any Cheerios in his hair today!" Abby called out delightedly.

McGee chuckled and looked at their son, who gurgled and raised his arms for his daddy.

"Da-da! Da-da!" He whimpered and McGee happily took fifteen month old Jett in his arms as he finished flipping the pancakes, Jett oohing and ahhing.

"He has Daddy's hair." Katie said thoughtfully, "Look, he's not so bald anymore."

All three kids giggled and McGee proudly surveyed his son's thin strands of brown hair. They hadn't really grown in until Jett was around eight months old and even then, he'd been bald on top. But now, it looked like his hair was really filling out. They were light brown, almost Sophie's shade, but lighter still.

"Tal's got black hair like me." David said cheerfully, "And brown eyes like Sophie's."

Tal babbled, hearing his name. Tufts of his thick black hair stood up and Abby would brush it later, admiring how much of it there was. He was the color of tea with a good mixture of milk and sugar, and his baby fat gave him the honorary nickname of 'Buddha.'

From what everyone could see, Tal was all Ziva. Except perhaps the baby fat. But he was a charming baby, and Abby had a feeling that he inherited the Tony DiNozzo charm that his father always bragged about.

The phone rang and McGee glanced at everyone before he picked up, greeting Tony. Nodding a few times, he hesitated,

"No, no, it's just that you've got two kids here who really miss you. And I'm not sure if Abby's going to be able to give Tal back to Ziva," He joked.

McGee nodded again, "Okay. Here's Sophie and David." He put the phone on speaker and went to go put Jett inside the baby playpen. Jett quickly found a pile of blocks and happily lost himself with them.

*

"Yes, Mommy misses everyone very much." Tony added, glancing toward Ziva's room, "Uh, no, no sweetie. Not right now, but Daddy's going to pick you up today from school okay? We'll go to the park and do the slides, huh? No, no, I don't know when you guys can see Mommy. Oh, I have to go." Tony muttered, seeing the doctor walk towards him, "I love you guys…Daddy loves you...bye princess."

He hung up, putting his phone away as he glanced toward the grim looking doctor.

"What's the verdict?" Tony asked, crossing his arms. He'd been getting coffee when Ziva woke up and hadn't been allowed to see her since. She was being examined by the doctor. Though Tony was eager to see her, make sure she was okay, the nurses insisted on having him wait in the waiting room where he'd been pacing up and down during his wife's surgery.

There'd been a woman in there, telling everyone that her husband was a no-good manwhore who was currently in a triple bypass operation and she hoped that he croaked. But she still fidgeted and looked at her watch as if she was truly a worried wife.

Tony's throat caught at that thought.

"Agent DiNozzo," Doctor Bonner greeted him, looking grim

"Mr. DiNozzo," Tony corrected him, "I'm off-duty right now. Is Ziva okay?"

The doctor sighed, "She is functioning incredibly well under the circumstances. Her executive skills are still there, her short term memory is a miracle considering her trauma, and she has no major cognitive problems. However-" He clears his throat and glances at him.

This is the bad news. Tony nods, looking at him, prepared to hear the worst.

"She's suffering from a very severe retrograde amnesia." The doctor explained and Tony blinks, confused.

"She forgot who she is?" He asks, stunned, "Like _The Bourne Identity?"_

The doctor shakes his head, "No, no. She knows that her name is Ziva David. She knows that she was born in Israel, her family, her friends. She remembers working at NCIS until she was moved back to Mossad in the spring of 2009."

Tony nods slowly, confused

"She remembers a little of the trauma she had at a North African camp, but nothing after that." The doctor explained further, "Ms. David told me that she thought it was at least September of 2009."

"Oh God." Tony whispered, needing to sit down, "But…" He glanced at the doctor, "Does she know?"

The doctor nodded, "I told her myself that it was February 17th, 2019. She didn't take it very well and I had to sedate her."

Tony nodded again, staring at the wall. The doctor continued,

"I believe that she never fully healed from the trauma of that trip to North Africa, Mr. DiNozzo." He paused, "Instead, she repressed it in her mind and pretended that it never happened. With her accident, it brought the trauma to the front of her memories again, but in the process, erased any that occurred after that time. An acceleration-deceleration injury is what we would call it,"

Tony nodded, "Does that mean she's not going to remember what she forgot?"

The doctor shook his head, "Amnesia is an extraordinary thing. Sometimes the patient remembers everything after a few days and sometimes they never do. The important thing to do is tell her stories, show her pictures, anything that helps trigger her memory."

Tony nodded, "Yeah, I can do that, I guess" He stared down at his wedding ring. He never took the damn thing off.

"And that baby is progressing just fine." The doctor assured him, "However, due to this trauma, she cannot be stressed right now. It's very bad for a developing fetus, especially one that's already made it through so much unscathed."

Tony stared at the doctor, "She's _pregnant_?"

The doctor blinked, "You didn't know, Mr. DiNozzo? The obstetrician has a report of seeing her two weeks ago for the first sonogram."

Tony nodded weakly, "How far along is she?"

"Two months." The doctor glanced back at Tony, "Due to this…unusual case, we don't want you or anyone else to stress her out too much. However, because of her lack of memories, this may be unavoidable."

Tony laughed shortly, "Yeah. She's probably going to be super stressed when she finds out that she's got three kids and pregnant with a fourth…Crap, I'm stressed just thinking about it."

"You're her husband, Mr. DiNozzo." The doctor told him kindly, "And I'm sure she has friends and family members willing to help out during these hard times. Just try not to upset or overwhelm her too much."

Tony shook his head, staring at his wedding ring, "I'm not her husband. We've been divorced for a year. A year and two months now." He laughed shortly, "Damn."

The doctor froze, "So the baby…" He trailed off

"No, it's mine." Tony nodded, idly twisting his ring, "She just didn't tell me."

He let out a deep breath,

"What am I supposed to do, walk in there and tell her that I'm her ex-husband and the father of her four children, one of whom is in the womb?"

The doctor hesitated, "She knows she's pregnant. That was the point where she began getting agitated because she was concerned that a man named Saleem impregnated her."

Tony's hand closed into a fist and he growled, "That _fucker_. That absolute _fucker_!" His eyes were wild for a second as he struggled to gather his bearings. He knew that Ziva had been through a lot in North Africa, but she refused to talk about it. Not ever.

"I think that as a familiar face, you should be the one to explain these things to her." The doctor said kindly, "She'll be ready for release in three days, and you may visit her now, Mr. DiNozzo. She'll be waking up in a few minutes."

Tony nods shortly, staring over at Ziva's room. She didn't remember anything. It was like her wish had come true:

"_I wish I'd never fallen in love with you, Tony!" Ziva screamed at him and pulled off her diamond ring, throwing it at his head. He caught it and she stalked off. He stood there, staring at her ring. The one he'd given to her himself after working overtime for three months to pay for it._

_It was engraved with an infinity following their acronyms, and the date of their wedding._

*

**Right, so please read and review. My inquiring mind wants to know how this will be recieved by the general NCIS community. Oh and if I should keep going with this story or just let it be (though there's a part of me that has SO many ideas...)...idk**

**Oh and I felt that I should contribute a story and get the numbers up (I'm addicted to pressing Popular on the TV category section and seeing how many more stories NCIS needs to beat House-and House is going to break 17,000 soon-which made me feel like all "NOOOO" lol even though I actually love House...I just love NCIS more). Does anyone else do that?**


	2. In For A Wild Ride

**Disclaimer: I disclaim, but I sure would like to own that hot piece of man-candy, Damon Werth.**

**Thank you guys for convincing me that this was a story worth pursuing. I just wasn't too sure about it because amnesia's a fairly popular subject. Hell, even the show's done it (Hiatus) but I couldn't help but wonder so many things. Especially Tiva things. The good news is that I finished my other story, so I can devote all my attention to this one. The bad news is...um, like Ziva, I can't remember.**

******Sorry, bad joke and certainly in poor taste...**

**(Update: Yeah...I screwed up on my math. Just correcting it now. See, I IMDB'd Cote de Pablo and saw that she was born in 1979. For some reason, my head computed that as 40 instead of 30. Totally my bad, NYT-who doesn't have PM so I can't tell her myself-and I think Tony's eyes are green-blue, but I could be wrong...)**

**Chapter Two: In For A Wild Ride**

**(yes, this was inspired by a certain reviewer)**

* * *

I smile, seeing Tony walk through with a hesitant expression on his face. He looks older, but much more handsome than I remember. It has been five months now.

No. It has been more now.

Ten years. I can barely register that fact. That means that I missed all of my thirties. I am forty now.

"Oh God, I am forty," I say aloud with a horrified look on my face and Tony laughs, despite himself. He looks so handsome when he laughs and I feel the warmth of his presence surge through my body like soda bubbles rising to the surface.

"No, you're thirty-nine. You won't be forty for awhile. It's only February," Tony explains, "Or have you forgotten your own birthday too?"

Tony is right. My birthday is later in the year, in August. I still feel like it is only seven more weeks to my birthday, before I turn thirty. I was so dreading turning thirty and now I am nearly forty? I fear to look in a mirror now.

"Oh, well then at least I will be able to remember a few months of my twenties." I manage to joke, though it is a terrible one. He smiles anyway, sitting down.

"Thirties, Z." He corrects, smiling, "And the more you age, the prettier you are anyway."

I laugh despite the cheesiness of his comment. Then I pause, realizing what-or rather, _who_-is missing from this picture.

"Where are McGee and Gibbs and Abby?" I ask, frowning, "And Ducky and Jimmy?"

Tony nods, "McGee and Abby are both at home, but they're coming by later. They were pretty worried about you, Zee. Gibbs is currently midair in an airplane flying from Baja to here. Jimmy's at NCIS, but he sent flowers and he's worried, of course."

"Ducky is with him?" I ask when Tony falls silent

"Ducky…Ducky had a heart attack about two years ago. We all took it pretty hard." Tony explained lightly, "Gibbs retired a while after that and I became team leader."

I nod dully, trying not to dwell on it. That is the only way I can deal with grief now, "Ducky is dead. Is anyone else dead?"

Tony pauses, glancing at me, "You remember Jenny?"

I nod, her pristine blue eyes staring up at me from the pool of blood, "And Michael." I stare at Tony, "I forgive you for that, Tony. I had time to think about it…"

I think back on these lonely nights in my apartment in Israel. It wasn't Michael's company I wanted, but Tony's. He was the best at making me feel happy and full of laughter. I missed that terribly and after time, I could even see why he killed Michael. But that didn't mean that I approved. But after a while, I just _missed _him.

Many times I thought about calling him only to hang up. It was a relief to get that mission from my father, even if it turned into a suicide mission.

"Many times, I thought about you and I was-I thought-" I hesitate, knitting my brows, "I don't remember too much about Africa, only that I wished I might be able to see you again to say that I forgive you for Michael."

Tony smiles warmly at me, "Thank you, Ziva." He squeezes my hand lightly and I feel a bloom of warmth everywhere. I have never felt it before, but my body greets it like an old friend.

"Saleem…" I hesitate, "Saleem isn't?" I put a hand over my stomach, where there is no bump, but a faint scar that I have no memory of receiving.

Tony shook his head, "Gibbs killed Saleem ten years ago when we came in to rescue you. And this-"

He rests his hand over mind and the same tingles of warmth shoot all over me again, yet I feel almost _used_ to it, as it if it only my body responding to him as it has done time and time again.

Times I do not remember.

"-Is ours." He says with no trace of irony in his voice. His voice is impossibly deep and my heart is racing as I nod.

I'm having Tony's baby.

_I'm having Tony's baby_.

He sits down and I stare at him, looking at all the lines I don't remember. But it is Tony. The curve of his mouth, the dimples, the blue eyes, the faint dimples, these are all Tony DiNozzo. The only thing out of character is the limp hair which looks like it hasn't been assaulted by products or even shampoo for a few days. And he smells like stale coffee, alcohol, and cologne, the last done to cover the fact that he hasn't showered in a while.

"How long have I been out?" I ask

"Three days," Tony says softly, twisting his wedding ring. I do not have one on my hand. Everything suddenly goes blank in that micro-second before I am able to refocus myself, allow myself to understand that Tony is married to another woman.

She probably isn't as pretty as I am.

"Are you married?" I ask, my voice half an octave higher. He notices and chuckles.

"No. Not anymore. Got a divorce and this is just…force of habit." He doesn't take it off and I wonder who he was married to. I wonder why they divorced.

For a fleeting second, I think of the only girl Tony's claimed to love, Jeanne. But that's ridiculous.

"Who?" I demand and he chuckles, staring at me

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Pulling out his wallet, he takes a picture from it and hands it over to me. "This was taken a few years ago." He mutters, leaning back into his seat.

I take the picture from him and have a jolt of surprise. It is _me_ with Tony. My arms are wrapped around his neck as we laughingly smile at the camera. Tony's blue eyes are looking at mine, a big smile on his face. I almost cannot believe it. But yet, it is there before me, like truth.

And our rings are prominent. Mine glints on one hand and I stare at my face, surprised to see such a broad grin on me. I don't smile in pictures. At least I haven't in a long time. Michael could never coax a genuine one out of me, though I tried to explain that I simply can't smile in pictures, only pose and pretend as if I am.

And now I am smiling as if I have no cares in the world. A real smile.

I stare at Tony, amazed, "I married you and then we divorced?"

Tony nodded, bringing his hands together and flipping his thumbs up and down, "We've been divorced for about fourteen months now."

"Why?" I demand

Tony took a deep breath, "We…we just grew apart."

I nod, able to accept that. Tony and I would not be able to get along indefinitely. I don't think.

We argue too much.

"When did we get married?" I question further, trying to fit this in my mind.

"Eight years ago. The divorce papers were finalized fourteen months ago. This baby was conceived when we were drunkenly celebrating our divorce anniversary."

I nod again, "I'm going to be a mother in seven months." I process this statement slowly, still unused to the idea.

After all, it took me six months to wrap my head around the idea that I was almost forty and unmarried. My mother certainly didn't help in that respect. But now I was forty-nine with an illegitimate baby and divorced from a lapsed Catholic. I wonder if I still talk to my mother.

Tony nods, "Yeah. Again."

I stare at him, confused. What does he mean by again?

He sighs, knowing that I am confused. His eyes are glassy, as if he is not quite disappointed, but something I cannot identify.

"We have three kids together," Before I can process this, he continues in a rush: "David Timothy DiNozzo was conceived the day that Ohio State won the Rose Bowl. Sophia Jenny DiNozzo came along two years later and you told me that two was enough. But I surprised you with a vacation to Paris and we had Donald Tal DiNozzo. David's six, Sophie is four and Tal is twenty-eight months old. We separated when Tal was two months old and you gave me papers when he was just starting to teeth."

Tony pauses, as if withholding something, but I cannot even demand to know the rest of the information. It is too unreal.

I shake my head, not able to believe any of this.

"You are jerking my chain, Tony. I cannot be a mother. I would not forget my children." I say firmly and my heart is racing. Tony notices it and he leans over, his hand squeezing mine,

"Hey, hey, don't worry." He smiles at me warmly and I soften, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. They're happy that you're alive and I'll help you. I'll help you remember."

I stare at the card next to the purple irises. That must be my child's card to me. Tony follows my glance and smiles,

"That's Sophie's handiwork. She loves to color." He explains unnecessarily, "Especially with her mother."

I can understand the wording now. It is alef-mem-alef: _Imma_. She has addressed it to her mother.

I take a shaky breath, comforted by him, despite his unattractive smell of not having showered for a week.

"Get some sleep." He whispers and I nod, my eyes closing as if he was a genie.

I feel him give me a scratchy kiss on my forehead before he leaves.

* * *

Jeanne wrote out the paperwork and glanced at her watch. Tony was supposed to call her soon.

Huffing a sigh, she took the next folder, thinking about how annoying it was that Ziva had to come between her and Tony. Tony was so confused now, when it was clear that Jeanne was the only one for him. Ziva was a pretty girl and all, but not right for a man like Tony DiNozzo.

And yet, Tony was standing vigil by her bedside as if she was.

Jeanne convinced herself that it was just their connection to each other-their children. Otherwise, Tony would be able to be with Jeanne without feeling so conflicted. As it was, he insisted that they stay just friends. He wasn't ready for a real relationship. Not so soon after the divorce.

And he hadn't slept with a woman for almost two years. Not since the day Jeanne anonymously mailed pictures of her and Tony to Ziva. It'd been a smart move on her part, especially since she had the photos lying around her house from her father's 'spies'.

Ziva would move on from Tony. In fact, she _had_, judging from the handsome man Tony complained about excessively. Except in front of their children, as per Ziva's request. Tony did anything Ziva asked, even if he pretended he wasn't. It irritated Jeanne.

As for Jeanne, she'd tried to move on, but couldn't. All the men didn't add up to Tony DiNardo.

And after a few years, it didn't seem to matter so much to her. He was still Tony, even if he had a different last name. He _did_ love her. Jeanne knew that. He lied to help her move on, but it hadn't worked. Tony, who took so long to say those three words, loved her.

So she moved back three years ago, only to discover that her perfect man was married. Ziva seemed to tolerate her, but Jeanne could tell that Ziva didn't like her much. However, Ziva wouldn't stir the waters and Tony didn't mind being her friend. So Jeanne worked at Bethesda, at first content with friendship.

It became more and more difficult however, but Tony's loyalty never wavered. Not until that night she went to a bar with him and they had a few drinks. Happy and drunk, she kissed him and he responded for a few seconds.

Then he pushed her away, saying he couldn't, he was married.

Angry, Jeanne sent the incriminating photos to Ziva anonymously. And it worked. Ziva divorced Tony, insisting that they part amicably, for the sake of their children. Tony had the kids on the weekend and Jeanne adored them. She didn't adore their mother, but she liked the idea of having a ready-made family with Tony.

Her phone rang and Jeanne picked up, "Hello Tony,"

"She woke up. Doesn't remember the last ten years," Tony explained, his voice rough, "Coffee?"

"Of course." Jeanne hung up, knowing that he would already be in the coffee room. Tony was only a floor below her.

Weary, Tony glanced over at her, sipping his coffee. She got her own cup and sat next to him, smiling concernedly at him.

"So she doesn't remember?" Jeanne started, unsure of what this meant

Tony nodded, "And she's pregnant. Two months along,"

"Whoa." Jeanne took another sip of her coffee, "Damon's?"

Tony made a face and shook his head, "Mine. We were drunk and sad and…" Tony trailed off, "It can't be Werth's. Ziva's only been dating the guy for..." Tony trailed off, not sure how long it'd been.

Ziva had been friends with Damon since before their marriage after all. Hell, Tony used to share beers with the guy at summer barbeques.

Jeanne nodded slowly, "So it could be either yours or his. Did you tell her that she's dating him?"

Tony scoffed, "He only came in to see her once. Once this whole week!"

Jeanne nodded, "Well Tony, you didn't exactly make him feel welcome." She pointed out and Tony exhaled

"I guess." He scoffed, "I would've stayed." He muttered

Jeanne decided not to point out that he _did_ stay, and broke one of their standing dinner dates to do so. But she wasn't complaining. She wouldn't nag him like Ziva did. She would be a better wife to Tony.

"What does she know?" Jeanne asked, glancing at Tony

"Everything up to ten years ago. I told her that we got married, divorced, had three kids, Ducky died, Gibbs retired…" Tony trailed off, "She took it in stride, but it was stressing her out. Especially the kids. She didn't believe me at first,"

Jeanne nodded, "Well mothers aren't supposed to forget their children, Tony."

Tony nodded, "It's hard though. She can't be stressed because of the pregnancy and yet she's completely stressed." He laughed shortly, gazing at her, "She's sleeping now."

"You should go home," Jeanne suggested, "Shower. See the kids. I bet the kids miss you, Tony."

Tony nodded, "I talked to them this morning, but they're getting more worried about Ziva. They want to see her, especially Sophie."

"You should see them. They haven't seen you all week. And it's not fair to Abby and McGee to have five kids on their hands, is it?"

Tony chuckled, "No, I suppose not." He glanced at his watch, "She should be out for a few hours anyway. It won't matter." He stared back at Jeanne, "Thanks for listening to me."

Jeanne chuckled back at him, "No problem handsome. Let me know when you want to get a drink,"

Tony nodded, getting up, "I'll go shower. Ziva was making a face when she smelled me." He smiled sadly, "You know, I had this stupid thought."

"What?" Jeanne smiled

Tony laughed, "I can make her fall in love with me all over again. And this time I won't screw up." He shook his head, "Crazy, right?"

Still half smiling, he walked away and Jeanne stared at him, her mind racing.

* * *

I woke up and looked at a man with the broadest smile on his face. He laughed, shaking his head,

He looks so familiar to me, but I cannot place him.

"How is it that even all busted up and banged, you still look prettier than any other girl in my mind?"

I laugh nervously, feeling uncomfortable as I clearly know this man, but I am having the hardest time placing him. He has dark blue, nearly piercing black, eyes and big shoulders. He was very attractive and interested in me, apparently. His name is on the tip of my tongue.

"I'm Damon Werth. We've known each other for a while, but I never much liked our first meeting." He confessed, "So I'm sort of relieved that you forgot how I punched you in the eye."

I wince inwardly, recalling his enraged face. I remember now, the powerful man who bellowed like a wounded beast. My heart had gone out to him then, and it was good to see that he was looking better now. Much better.

This was Damon. We'd been interested in each other, but it never amounted to anything except good friendship.

"You caught me on the wrong end of a 'roid rage." He explained, "I was-"

"Dishonorably discharged." I smile, happy to place him, "I remember the punch."

He groans and we both laugh. I admire his dark blue eyes and the way that the shifting light makes them bright blue, like ice crystals.

"We met for coffee a few times." I say softly, "But you were…" I pause, searching for the right word, "Not ready?"

He nods, "You insisted on keeping in touch during my rehab. And after that, you and I met up for coffee a few times to catch up on our lives. But the timing was always wrong for us. I was stuck in my past and you were with Michael Rivkin at first."

I laugh, able to believe that statement. I could even remember laughing with him over coffee and proudly showing off a picture of my boyfriend. We last met up a few weeks before Michael was killed. He showed me a picture of a pretty blond haired girl too, but I've lost her name.

I wonder what Michael and Damon would've thought of each other. They're very much alike.

"Maggie." I recall with clarity and he nods, smiling at me.

"Yeah, I was dating a Maggie for a while. But uh, we broke up. I can't remember why, but I met other girls and you fell in love with Tony. After a while I got married and had my own daughter, Grace." He explains, quite succinct, "My wife died when Gracie was born, so I've been raising her myself."

I nod, able to believe that.

"But uh, two years ago, your son and Gracie were put in the same preschool class," Damon grinned, "Gracie's a tomboy, so she became best friends with David and we saw a lot more of each other. Really became actual friends,"

"I can see that." I nod

"You were always in love with Tony and I never messed with that. So we stayed just friends and uh, after the divorce you really leaned on me." He hesitated, "Uh, we started fooling around, but uh, then you got pregnant and that changed everything."

I frown, "_Wait_,"

Obviously, I told Damon that I was pregnant. So…was he the father?

"Too stressed?" Damon asks, looking at me worried and I am comforted, at least by his clear honesty. Tony hadn't been telling me everything, but it was clear that Damon was not hiding anything.

"No. Um, this is your baby?" I place my hand on my abdomen, confused,

Damon sighed, "You don't know, actually. You fell in bed with Tony and regretted it afterwards and came to me. One thing led to another and…" He trailed off, too much of a gentleman to finish his sentence.

I chuckle, wiggling my eyebrows.

Blushing, of all things, Damon laughs softly, nodding, "We spent a _lot_ of time in my bed for about three weekends. And then you started throwing up and stuff…" He hesitated, "We didn't use a condom the first time, so you figured it had to be me, but I think you _wanted_ it to be me. And I kind of want it to be me too," He admitted, gazing at me.

I feel dizzy and very confused. Why do I hate Tony so much? Wouldn't I want him to be my kid's father, since he has three other kids with me?

"Hey…Z-oh. Hi, Damon." McGee says slowly, standing in the doorway, half unsure if he should be coming in. His suit jacket has a bit of baby puke on the lapel that he hasn't noticed yet.

He looks different, much to my surprise. He's got his hair in a more attractive cut and his face is blunter in some places. There are laugh lines and wrinkles where I've never seen them before, but the baby blue eyes are all McGee.

"Hey Tim." Damon greets McGee easily and I relax, feeling better about Damon's identity as my…boyfriend? I suppose.

"Are you my boyfriend?" I ask him bluntly, struggling for words

Damon paused, "We never really defined our relationship, Ziva. Our kids thought we were just friends and yours were barely getting over the divorce."

I glance over to McGee, "Am I married to Tony, divorced, and now dating Damon Werth?"

McGee nodded slowly, "But I don't know details. You talk to Abby about it. With me, we just discuss what dolls to get for our girls."

"I have girls with you too, McGee?" I ask, overwhelmed and wondering why I have turned into such a slut.

"No!" McGee laughs, "Well, technically you are my daughter's godmother and I'm your daughter's godfather, but we've always called them our girls."

I nod, relaxing, before I soften, "You have kids too?" Granted I knew that from the baby-puke, but it was quite another thing to hear McGee talk so casually about girls. Girls I didn't know and yet it appeared that I should. Especially if one was mine-Sophie.

Sophia Jenny DiNozzo.

It's clear that we named her after Sophie Rainier and Jenny Shepherd. It's a pretty name and I wonder what the face behind it looks like.

McGee nods and glances toward Damon, "Yeah, yeah I do. I've got a picture in my wallet."

"I should go." Damon adds quietly. I smile and watch him leave, feeling like a giggly little girl. He is, after all, very handsome. I've always thought that.

But I am very confused about this baby.

McGee sits down, chuckling, "You know, I never thought I'd see the day where your photographic memory failed you and Ziva David forgot something. Of course, given the fact that it was ten years of your life…" He trails off, grabbing his wallet, "So uh, I have two kids with Abby."

I clap my hands, "So you _did_ marry Abby. What was the wedding like?"

McGee's smile softens, "We had it in the front of Ducky's house. Abby always liked that house and Gibbs officiated. There were corgis just _everywhere_," He shook his head, "There weren't that many people…like twenty tops. But it was a nice wedding, except for the part where my sister got so smashed on Abby's Caf-Champagne that she took off her top and practically accosted Tony." McGee laughed, "Gibbs had to restrain you while my father got Sarah somewhere to sober up,"

My smile fades, "Ah."

"You and Tony fought for the rest of the party, but we saw you making out by the time Abby declared that she was ready to leave. We spent our honeymoon in Baghdad,"

I look at McGee in surprise, "Oh, is it a tourist destination now?"

McGee shakes his head, "No, I mean, the war's pretty much over now, of course, but uh, I had to go to Baghdad and Abby supported that. We only spent two days there before flying to Greece for the remainder. I think Katie was conceived on the airplane ride there, over international waters." He mused thoughtfully

I nod, remembering how dejected McGee looked when he realized that he missed his chance to go to Iraq because of Tony. It'd been cruel of Tony to do that, but Tony is Tony. _Was Tony_.

And now I am not certain of just who Tony _is_.

"So," McGee pulled a photo out of his wallet, much as Tony does, "I have two kids with Abby. Caitlin Sarah McGee is your daughter's best friend. They're about five months apart."

I smile, realizing that he's named Katie after my predecessor, Kate Todd. It is a pretty name. And I chuckle, seeing the picture. There is a cute little pixie with dark brown hair and electric blue eyes that remind me of Abby's. I miss Abby.

But it is no wonder that she is not here if she has adorable children like these keeping her at home.

Little Katie has McGee's cherub cheeks and her hair is up in ponytails, Abby-style, as she proudly holds a little boy in her arms, beaming cutely. The baby, for he can't be more than a few months old, is bald with the same blue eyes and a big smile on his face like he's just ready to conquer the world. It reminds me of the look in McGee's eyes just before he starts talking about jetpacks.

"And this little boy is adorable." I add, smiling at McGee, "He looks like you."

McGee smiles, "Jethro Zev McGee. I wanted to nickname him Jetpack, but Abby refused so we compromised on Jett."

"You named him after me?" I ask, touched

McGee nods, "We liked it better than Jethro Anthony. Plus Tony's hoping Jett wants to be called JZ McG when he's older,"

I hesitate, staring at the picture again, "What do-" I pause, "What do _my_ kids look like."

McGee smiles, "They're cute kids. Tal is pretty much all you. I don't even see a little bit of Tony in the little guy, honestly. He's just this little Buddha, silent and with the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. If he isn't throwing knives soon, I'll be astonished,"

I laugh at McGee, heartened by his description.

"Sophie, she uh, she looks a lot more like Tony, but she has your face and definitely the same stubbornness. She has this lisp though and thinks that Hebrew, Spanish, and English are the same language, so it can be a challenge to understand her sometimes. I think she's started in on German too, but I'm not sure."

I chuckle despite myself, "She'll sort it out."

McGee rolls his eyes, "That's what you say, but she's a good kid. Has her heart in the right place." He smiles warmly, "And uh, David, of course. You know, I helped you deliver him."

I look at him with surprise and laugh warily, "You did?"

He nods, "Well, Ducky was on the phone giving me instructions, but it was just you, me, and the backseat of my Porsche on one of the hottest days of summer. We were stuck in some of the worst traffic of my life and the baby was coming." McGee shook his head, "You screamed at me to pull over, I called Ducky, and within two hours, I was holding a little boy in my arms, completely stunned."

I chuckle, "That is too unbelievable not to believe." Hesitating, I glance at him, "Where was Tony?"

McGee chuckled, "He was at NCIS, doing the work of three agents with Gibbs. I had to stay with you because it was my shift. Gibbs didn't like you alone so he would send me or Tony there in shifts,"

McGee looked back at me, "He was on your cell phone, right next to your ear the whole time. And we saw him in the helicopter twenty minutes later. They airlifted you and David to the hospital and Tony left me with a promise to get my backseat cleaned up. But the leather was ruined and there was nothing that could be done, so I just sold it."

I chuckle, "David DiNozzo. That is an interesting name."

Clearly it is my last name and Tony's too. They even kept the pronunciation correct, for which I am grateful.

Am I still Ziva David? Or am I Ziva DiNozzo? I think it is the first, as the nurses call me Ms. David.

"It was originally going to be Anthony David DiNozzo, but you insisted on changing it to Timothy David DiNozzo, so after arguing for three hours, you both agreed on David Timothy DiNozzo." McGee paused, "I remember Tony threatening to call him _Day_-vid instead of _Dah_-veed if you didn't agree to Anthony David DiNozzo, but he gave that argument up quickly and won a minor victory in not having a son who shares my first name."

I roll my eyes and McGee continues with a grin,

"Tal was also supposed to be an Anthony, but Ducky died and she was born on the anniversary of your sister,"

I nod, "I do not think I would've named this one Anthony either. That is, if I could remember everything. But I don't." I frown

McGee shook his head, "You don't."

"Why did I divorce Tony?" I ask him

McGee sighed, "Truth be told, I don't know. You never told me and Tony didn't either. Abby might know though. She's planning to come by tomorrow with laptop that has about a gig's worth of pictures on it."

I nod, "I hope that is a lot. My doctor says that photos should help jog my memory."

McGee chuckles, "It's a large amount." He pauses, "Tony's a good guy, Ziva. He's always been one and he still is, so don't worry about that."

I nod, "And Damon?"

McGee hesitates, "Well, Tony's my friend so I have to hate Damon. But he makes you happy, Ziva. And he's good with the kids, especially Sophie, who can be difficult. And he loves the boys, because he doesn't have any boys of his own."

I nod, still processing. I am processing a great deal these days.

"Are you getting stressed? Tony told me I couldn't stress you out."

"No, no the more news I receive, the less stressed I get, because it's like I _know_ more, so there's less questions." I pause, "But sometimes I only get more questions. Like with these kids…and Tony. I have _so_ many questions about Tony."

"I have answers about Tony." Tony's deep voice spoke from the door. He smiles and my heart does a flip. Now that he's cleaned up a bit, he looks handsome. Not that he didn't before, but there's something almost magnetic about him now.

McGee smiles, "Hey, you look clean."

Tony does his mocking laugh and takes a seat next to McGee, looking at me with warmth.

"How are you, Zee?" He asks softly

I sigh, "I'm confused. Damon came to see me. He says this is _his_ baby."

McGee starts, "Huh?"

Tony laughs shortly, "No Ziva, that baby is mine, just like all your other babies."

"She's pregnant?" McGee asks in a soft voice and I nod

"Two months." Tony said shortly, "And two months ago, I was with her, having some very R-rated fun."

"Damon says that he had similar fun with me that weekend. Apparently I left you crying and upset." I counter, frowning

McGee nods, "That makes sense. You and Tony had kind of an ugly divorce."

"We try not to do it in front of the kids though," Tony adds quietly, "But uh, Ziva, I _know_ that's my kid in there."

"I don't." I told him and McGee stops, glancing at the machine

"Whoa, her stress rate's jumping Tony."

Tony leans over, alarmed, "You're right, Ziva. We don't know…but I _want_ it to be my kid,"

I frown, "Why? We are divorced."

Tony nods, "I never wanted that. You asked for it and I gave it to you because…" He sighed, "I don't know. Stupid pride, I guess." He leaned back, staring at me, and I felt naked to his touch, "You asked me once if I believed in soul mates."

"You told me it was an old eighties song." I remind him, remembering the moment

He laughs, "Would you believe me if I told you that I did? And that I know you're mine?"

I hesitate, "I don't know,"

"Go to sleep, Ziva." McGee interrupts us kindly, "You're getting stressed and that's not good for the baby." He stands up and forces Tony up as well, both of them leaving. McGee, I can tell from his prickly state, is going to yell at Tony. I wish I could see it, but I've a feeling there's plenty of time for _that_.

My mind fades back into sleep as I dream of babies.

* * *

"Are you actually doing what I think you're doing?" McGee demands of Tony who sighs sheepishly

"I love her Tim. You know that. This is like a second chance,"

McGee laughs shortly, "Ziva losing her memory of her children is a second chance? She's pregnant, and that kid might not be yours!"

Tony scoffs, "It's mine." He shakes his head firmly, "I _know_ it's mine, McGee. I know it like I know that Jett puked on you again this morning."

McGee frowns, "How-"

"Baby puke on your shoulder, Probie." Tony cuts him off, "I love her, McGee. And she loves me. I just have to make her remember,"

"She hates you, Tony." McGee points out lightly

"She hates me for a reason she doesn't remember. A reason I never understood fully," Tony shot back, "But she's always loved me. Otherwise, we would've have found each other that night two months ago."

McGee turned back to Tony, "Why did she go to Damon, Tony?"

Tony sighed, staring in the window where Ziva was sleeping, "One minute we were cuddling and the next, she got out and I tried to follow, but she hid my clothes." Wry smile on his face, he sighed, "Damon was just in the right place in the right time."

McGee frowned, "I'll have to ask Abby." He turned back to the room, "I can stay with Ziva for the rest of today. I know that the kids really miss you, Tony."

Tony sighed and glanced at his watch, "Well, I just rushed straight here. I didn't realize she'd be awake." He nodded, "I promised Sophie and David I'd take 'em to the park." He pats Tim on the shoulder, "Thanks McGee."

McGee nods, watching Tony leave. Even his advanced mind cannot calibrate exactly how Tony plans to win back Ziva David, his supposed soul mate.

* * *

**Okay, I had Damon written into this three weeks ago, when I first posted the thing. I was meaning to post this on Sunday, because I like Sundays. But after tonights NCIS episode that would be way too generic. Plus I swear, I was so sure they were going to do a story arc with Damon. Little did I realize that he was only stirring the waters for Tiva to boil up like bubbles. Didn't Tony look a little _too_ gleeful after he thought he got rid of Damon?**

**I mean, I know I shouldn't. I really, really do, but there is something about that Damon Werth. I noticed him in Outlaws and In-Laws, and I just KNEW he'd be perfect for this. And I was right! Unfortunately the NCIS writers had the same idea. Although I suppose this is good at the same time, because now at least everyone who reads this will have a better idea of just who Damon Werth aka Corporal Punishment is. God he's so attractive in a such a primal way...I just want to stare at him...a lot. I don't even mind keeping him around for a few episodes and it is amusing to see Tony jealous. Loved the ending where he offers to drive Damon home himself.**

**After all, I had to suffer through Tony and Jeanne for like half a season before I could watch the tv screen without having a pillow to my face...Isn't it FAIR then, to at least ASK to have some hot man candy stick around for an episode or two?**

**Oh I do hope Ziva really does see him later. Do you think the fact she didn't say anything to Tony means she will???**

**UPDATE: I'm sorry to whoever hates Damon Werth. I happen to love him. Not as much as Tiva though, so don't worry. But this fanfiction won't be containing any Damon-bashing...I can't make any promises about not having any Jeanne-bashing, but I will certainly keep her relatively in character. I can't do the same for Damon because he's still a very mysterious entity. I mean, I do have Corporal Punishment and Jacknife recorded right now, but I can't making any promises about keeping him Damon, as he's so little known, you know? At first I was going to do some random dude, but then I was flipping back through episodes and I noticed the attraction between Ziva and Damon. And then, as if FATE was speaking, I saw him in Outlaws and In-Laws. I just knew he was perfect for the kind of guy I was going for.**

***blinks* Right. So uh, read and review Blank. I think I'll probably update this on Sunday. I like Sundays. Rhymes with Funday (and so does Monday as one reviewer pointed out, but I, like Garfield, hate Mondays).**

**And for anyone who came over from Finding the Words, thanks so much for sticking around to read another piece of my work. They can certainly attest to the fact that I do finish fanfic stories...even if my updating skills leave something to be desired. And if you're desperate to read something else, you _could_ always read my other recent piece of (completed) fanfic, Finding The Words, starring a crossover between NCIS and Bones. And I can say with great authority that it is a pretty good crossover, as far as these things go...**


	3. Tony's Taking Charge

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own dignity, which is probably being lost with the amount of time I spend obsessing over Tiva and The Bachelor (yes, I am a closet Bachelor fan-it's all my friend's fault-and praying that Vienna gets sent home).**

**Right, so this might be a little hard for some of you guys to handle because there's some of Jeanne (A/N Jena Rink, I checked out your Sophie-forgot the real title, you have too many stories-fic, it's pretty fricking awesome, and really is really hard to write her as a character because most of the time you just want to smother her...Well, I do anyway. Points to you for making her out as a good person, because she probably deserves that rep, since she didn't ask for Tony DiNardo, I guess. But I just want to smother her anyway, because she's an unnatural part of the equation which is Tony+Ziva=TIVA) But she is important for the final destination of this fic, as is Damon.**

**And no. I am not putting them together. Ew. Nor will anyone be dying and/or dead in this fic (sorry diehard TIVA fans who hate Jeanne more than I do).**

**Although Damon is more of a guilty pleasure, really. I mean, I'm sorry for those of you that hate him entirely because he deflects TIVA like Jeanne, but I mean...my god, that man is...something full of something.**

**Oh and how much does it suck that there's no NCIS for the next two weeks because of the Olympics? I mean, I'm patriotic and stuff, but I'm also addicted to NCIS. This is just like the Writer's Strike all over again where the TV became a black hole for weeks...Only at least I still have the Colbert Report and my computer to write obsessively with. Not to mention drooling over the various hotties in the Winter Olympics (but do they have to be so clothed up? It can't be THAT cold in Vancover if they had to manufacture all the snow after all).**

**Hope you guys enjoy this one. It'll be the last update until NCIS comes back, because that's where I get my inspiration from. And I don't have enough spare pages to do a update during the hiatus. I'm already nervous enough about the real show throwing in a plot twist that makes this totally non-canon (just like Bones did with Jared...ugh). Masquerade was close enough when Ziva started talking about Saleem in the warehouse to Tony.**

* * *

"Daddy! Daddy!" Sophie screams and runs over to Tony, her ratty pink Smeeka tightly enclosed in her right hand as her left one stretches out to her father. He picks her up and expertly swings her around before loosely holding her to his chest, his arms encasing her in warmth as she brings her Smeeka up to her mouth and he notices how ratty it is...again. Ziva managed to get it through the landry last week and it already looks dirtier than the bottom of Tony's refrigerator.

"_Ich_ miss _bous_, _Papa_." Sophie said simply, her free hand clasped tightly around his neck, "_Aipo_ _madre_?" She demands, wanting to know the location of her mother. He shifts her up, trying to figure out how much to tell his baby girl, and relieved that so far, he understands her.

"Mommy is still in the hospital. But she's feeling a lot better than before." Tony told Sophie truthfully, "I'm going to take you and David to the park and we'll have some fun with Daddy for a little while, okay?" He gave Sophie his best exaggerated smile, the one that usually made her giggle. But now she just frowned and crossed her arms, pouting.

"I _tsehen bollen Immali_." She declared, narrowing her eyes just as Ziva would do to him when he was being especially annoying. Tony's heart twisted to see that expression. Sophie was already so much more like her mother, despite the fact that she looked more like him with his blue-green eyes and light brown hair.

Tony smiles encouragingly, trying to cover up the fact that he has no idea what his little girl has just told him: "What do you wanna do with Mommy, baby?" He shifts Sophie up, absently reminding himself to listen to his German-on-tape books again.

"She wants to see Mom." David supplies, walking up with his red backpack slung behind him. He squints at his father and has the look of a six year old monk on his face, "And Miss Julie wants to talk to you, Daddy."

"What'd you do, buddy?" Tony asked, feeling like he was going to get yelled at.

David shifted his backpack, shrugging. Tony wondered who his son got his poker face from.

Only six and he was already adept at lying…to his father anyway. Ziva always caught him. But he persisted sometimes. Ziva didn't like that, but she told Tony it was just a phase and would disappear as long as they kept a united front on raising their kids. Tony could usually figure out when David was lying, but not always.

"So she just wants to see me?" Tony asked, setting Sophie down with a frown. He didn't like dealing with Miss Julie who didn't seem to like him. Therefore, Ziva typically dealt with the teachers. David nods in confirmation, gazing up at his father with a placid look on his face.

"Seriously, what did you do, David Timothy?" Tony asked warily, knowing that Miss Julie usually preferred to have as little contact with him as possible.

"Nothing," David said coolly, squinting his eyes as the sun hit them. They were brown like Ziva's, and like always, Tony gave him the benefit of the doubt. How could he not when his son had his mother's eyes?

David nods and glances behind him, "Can I go to Gracie's house? Her dad finished the treefort in their backyard." He was looking over at where Gracie was showing Damon her art project: a confection of blue and green cotton balls and popsicle sticks.

Tony shook his head, "You can tomorrow, but I want to spend some time with you and Sophie today. We're going to the park after I talk to Miss Julie." He straightens, trying not to look at Werth, who is properly admiring his daughter's artwork.

Tony walks over to Miss Julie with a fake smile on his face. She frowns, seeing that she has to deal with Mr. DiNozzo though she was anticipating it all day.

After all, she has a tense relationship with Tony since he accidentally walked in on her getting a little fresh with one of the single dads (his kid was in the third grade, actually) and topless to boot. He had never told anyone, but she still felt uncomfortable talking to a man who had seen her half naked without her consent.

Especially when his grin pulled a certain way and she could just tell that he was thinking "_Yeah…I saw you topless."_ Or perhaps she was just paranoid. But she had four brothers, so she doubted the former statement.

"My son says that you'd like to talk to me?" Tony asks politely, for the first time in their relationship, not glancing at her chest the first chance he got. She feels better already, yet worse at the same time, because of this man's ex-wife. Everyone knows what has happened to Ziva.

"Yes." She pauses, "David is a great kid, Mr. DiNozzo. However he's very affected by your ex-wife's current condition, much like the divorce last year."

Tony drew a breath, "Is he fighting with other kids again?" David had gone through a mean streak last year and that was how the two parents had discovered their son's lying problem.

Miss Julie shook her head, "Nothing that extreme yet. I've been watching him all week. He's very irritable and anti-social. He just wants to sit in the corner, like he's in time-out. When I ask him to go play, he says that he's been bad and now his mommy is hurt."

Tony nods, sighing, "He's been wetting the bed at home. Is that happening here too?"

Miss Julie nods, "Like clockwork. Mrs. McGee brings a pair of clean pants with him everyday now. He doesn't have nightmares though, but I strongly encourage you to explain what happened to his mother and how it isn't his fault."

Tony nods, "Another thing…Ziva lost ten years of her memory," He glances at Miss Julie as if she has the answers

Miss Julie nods, "This can be much more traumatic for David, Mr. DiNozzo, if not handled correctly. I would advise you to explain to the kids that their mother might be a little confused and disorientated at first. But there is no need for them to know that she's forgotten about them. That can be awful for a child's psyche, especially after what they've been put through because of your divorce."

Tony nods, "I was thinking of having them meet with a therapist or something." He trails off and tucks his hands into his pockets, "Thank you, Miss Julie, for uh, letting me know about David. I'm hoping Ziva makes a quick recovery."

"I'll pray for your ex-wife, Mr. DiNozzo." Miss Julie adds kindly, "I hope she's back to her usual form soon…for the sake of the kids." She glances at him and he can tell what she's thinking: he'll break soon. After all, Tony's taking over for what Ziva usually does and it's bound to be something of a disaster.

Tony nods, "Me too." He glances at her again and despite himself, his eyes drift down to her chest and she groans, seeing the more familiar expression on his face. Walking away, she busies herself with helping a little boy put his backpack on.

He grins despite himself. Tony isn't terribly attracted to Miss Julie, but he is a man.

Scratching his head, he walks away, his worry about David heightened. He thought that David was fine, Sophie slightly less so, and Tal unaffected. However, now he has a bedwetter, a clinger, and a mute.

Tal, though two years and four months old, had yet to say his first words. The experts claimed that it was due to the stress of the divorce as his hearing tests came back fine. His intelligence level was also normal and the experts just told them to give Tal time.

Instead of waiting, Ziva decided to teach him sign language, so that was how Tal communicated most of the time. David and Sophie had gotten into the act, but Tony's signing was still rusty and he half thought that signing was a crutch, so he never put much effort into it.

Tal, who could hear perfectly well, would never speak if he was being given an alternative way of communication, Tony thought.

Ziva and he used to have screaming arguments over that.

"Tony!" Damon trots over, an easy smile on his face. Tony stiffens, still thinking about what he knows about Damon. This man slept with his wife.

_Ex-wife_ an uneasy voice in his head corrects. The voice sounds oddly like McGee. He's spending way too much time with Tim.

"Damon," Tony shakes his hand, "I'm sorry, but I was planning to take David and Sophie to the park. Bonding time and all that,"

"No, no, that's fine." Damon flashed an easy grin, "I was just wondering if I could ease the load on you for tomorrow? I can watch the two of them after school since I know Abby must be tired."

Tony nods uneasily, staring at Damon.

_What the hell man? I invite you in my house, give you my beer, and you sleep with my wife?_

_Ex-wife. _

_Shut up McGee._

"That'd be nice, Damon, but the doctors wanted them to visit Ziva tomorrow. Just to see if she's really ready for her new life."

Damon nods, "Oh really? Well, I'll come along as well. Support and all that."

"You know, she doesn't really remember you, so I don't think that's necessary." Tony countered

Damon hesitates, "I think it is. Especially now since she doesn't _know_ certain things,"

Tony's eyes narrow, knowing Damon is talking about anything at this point. There are too many things he is keeping away from Ziva, for her own good.

_You freaking bastard_

"You know, you're right. You should come along. You can take the kids afterwards to this famous tree-fort." Tony scratches his face, glancing back at David and Sophie, "I need to get going, so I'll see you, Werth."

_Hopefully not tomorrow_

* * *

"Oh!" I smile, seeing Abby. She is very different from what I remember. Her smile is bigger, her hair now goes to just below the shoulder, if she wore it down. However, it is calming to see that she still has the ever-present ponytails. Her lips are still bold red, but it is clear that she is much older. The new laugh lines on her ivory face give that fact away easily.

"Hey Ziva!" She hesitates, glancing at me and I laugh,

"I still remember you, Abby. I just do not remember what we have done since ten years ago." I explain kindly

She relaxes a little, though not by much, "Well that's good." She hesitates, "I have the babies with me. I couldn't get a sitter."

I freeze, but nod, "That is okay. I would like to see…" I pause, "I would like to see my baby."

_Donald Tal_

Abby wavers, "Are you sure? I mean, I know Tony's bringing David and Sophie by later, but you were mentally preparing for that, so…"

"No," I shake my head, "No amount of preparation will help me. And perhaps," I pause, "Perhaps seeing him will jog my memory."

Abby nods, "I sure hope so. Otherwise I'll have to fill you in on ten years' worth of gossip in only four hours."

I laugh, grinning at her

"And Gibbs is coming by later. He was supposed to be here by now, but there was a complication with his flight." Abby shrugged, "Apparently he caught someone that's been on the NCIS watch list by a chance of pure luck. But now he has to detour to LA with the guy and put him in custody."

"Why LA?" I ask, confused

"That's where the closest NCIS branch is," Abby explained, "His plane went from Baja to Houston. But he's getting a flight from LAX to Dulles. McGee's picking him up around five thirty. He'll be here in the morning because visiting hours end at four-thirty, except for Tony because he's your emergency contact."

I smile, excited about the prospect. I miss Gibbs, especially now. But at the same time, it scares me to think of him. He will, surely, look like an old man now.

Abby hesitates, "And your parents are here. Well not here _here_, but in the area."

"Why?" I ask, surprised. My parents do not like air travel, due to an incident where their El-Al flight was taken hostage by the Libyans. Of course, my father managed to neutralize the terrorists and get everyone out of the plane safely, but neither he nor my mother have flown an airplane if they can help it.

"They've lived here for a while," Abby explains to me, "Your mom wanted to be near her grandkids, so your dad sold their place and bought a cruise to Washington DC. They live in the rich part of Georgetown. You usually visit them every Shabbat with the kids,"

I am stunned that they left Israel. They love Israel, and our entire family is in Israel. It amazes me that they did this.

"What about my father's job?" I ask

Abby shakes her head, "He retired after your mother was tested positive for lung cancer. He also gave up smoking."

I nod slowly, "Is she-"

"As you say, she has good days and she has bad days." Abby explains kindly, "She's also part of a program at Georgetown. Some trial drug and it's doing miracles for her. She has more energy and her blood count is up. But your father hasn't told her about your hospital stay. She thinks that you're on a business trip,"

I nod, "I would not want her to worry about me. She is very protective,"

Abby nods, "She loves the kid-Oh!" Abby starts and turns around, leaving the room as if she has forgotten something.

She comes back with two baby boys. One is holding her hand as he walks and the other is in her arms, asleep. I already know from the picture yesterday, though he has a few tufts of brown hair now, that the sleeping baby is Jett.

This means that the two and a half foot toddler, with the big brown eyes, is my Tal. His eyes brighten, seeing me and he lets go of Abby's hand to run over to my side, making motions with his hands. Climbing up on the bed, I help him with a laugh, amazed.

He continues to sign to me, and after a few seconds I realize I know what he is saying. I don't remember learning sign language, but clearly I know it. He calls me Mommy and asks if I'm too hurt to go home.

I look at him, unable to do anything but stare at this baby who belongs to me.

His hair is out of control, black tufts that fall into a bird's nest on his head, because his hair is not quite curly but more than simply wavy. I'm surprised I have not had it cut yet, and I suppose it is out of sentimentality. This is my baby, after all. _My baby_.

He hugs me, despite my silence. I hug him back, just wanting to stare at him until the world ended. He pulls away, staring at me with narrow eyes and I wonder what I have done wrong.

"Ziva, say something." Abby tells me in a hushed voice and I realize that I have not yet spoken to my baby. _My baby_.

"Hello baby," I smile, staring at him in wonder, for he was obviously mine. He has my skin tone, for one, and my eyes, and my face. Well, more Tali's face. Hers was curvier than mine.

He is still wavering, his big eyes staring at me. I wonder what to add. I am at a loss for words and I almost wish he would speak.

"Tal, your Mommy's lost her voice too." Abby teases us, "But I know that reading this story will help her remember how to talk again." She hands me a blue picture book and Tal snuggles by my side without a second thought. I stare at her in astonishment and she gestures to the book.

Gazing back at Tal, I smile at him and he smiles back at me. Nodding, I open the book, a bit confused by the picture of the little girl with all the toilet paper on the front cover.

"A new mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and fourth, back and fourth, back and fourth." I read, thinking about how similar I felt to this new mother.

Tal is next to me, moving his head inside my arm, so that he is resting on my abdomen and I am strangely reminded of when I did the same thing as a child, listening for my sister's kicks.

"And while she held him," I read on, "She sang: I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

I glance at Abby as Tal turns the page, suddenly struck by why she chose this book for me to read to Tal. And I knew it was true, as I read to Tal, half watching him as he looked at the book. I never failed to notice that he would always look at me whenever I read the part about loving him forever. It made him smile, a smile I have not seen in ten-no, twenty-years now: Tali's smile.

And I knew I would love Tal forever. Though I still had no memories of him, I did have my eyes in him, and I had the knowledge that this was _my baby_. Some amazing little thing that I had helped bring into existence.

He fell asleep as I finished the book, his thumb in his mouth. I just looked at him, stroking his head gently as I tried to find the Tony in him.

Abby put Jett in his carrier and both babies were sound asleep as she turned her computer on. Grinning at me, she smiles,

"Ready to look at ten years' worth of memories?"

"I have never felt less ready for anything now." I admit, tearing my gaze away from Tal, "Abby, did you know that I am pregnant?" I ask her, suddenly curious by how much she knows.

Abby nods, "You took the test at my house. Three cartons of lemonade and seven sticks later, it was pretty positive for a baby. You have amazing fertility for someone your age."

I wince, not wanting to remember that I am thirty nine, before nodding, "And you know who the father is?"

Abby nods again and hesitates, "Well, no…You sorta slept with more than one guy."

"It is only Tony and Damon, yes?" I ask, suddenly fearful that my divorce has turned me into a slut.

Abby nods, "You and Tony were drunk and sad together." Abby sighed, "I haven't been able to look at the Director's office the same way since."

I choke, "We did it in Director Vance's office?"

Abby laughs, "No, no. Uh, Vance got offered a cushy job as deputy director with the NSA a few years back and the suits chose Ziva DiNozzo-David to replace him. Of course, now you're just Director David."

I stare at her, astonished, "You are kidding." I state, unable to believe it.

Abby shakes her head, "No. And you're a pretty good director. You're the only one that can handle Tony, after all. Even now…It's amazing really, the way you guys have made work and home totally separate lives." Abby muses

"How did I even get that job?" I cut in, still confused, "I am Israeli."

"No. You gave up your citizenship to Israel after you came back from North Africa." Abby corrects, gazing at me, "Do you remember anything about North Africa?"

I shake my head, "Only that it is-_was_," I laugh shakily, as it still feels like yesterday, "Was a suicide mission. I was _this_ close to killing him when I got captured." I leave a small space between my fingers. A centimeter and a half, if I remember correctly.

I pause, "I have been in captivity for hours at least. He hit me several times before I black out and wake up…here."

Abby stares at me, "Ziva, you were in captivity for _months_. And when you came back, it took a while before you were you again."

I shrug, not having any association with what she tells me. But it is comforting to feel the weight of Tal's head on my stomach. I glance at Abby again,

"Does Tal talk?"

Abby shakes her head, dimming her eyes, "No, he's never said his first words. The doctors think that it's because of your divorce. The general consensus was to leave him alone and that he'd talk by himself in time. You thought it might be easier for him to communicate if he learned sign, that's all."

I nod, "He's beautiful." I gently stroke his hair and his arms, marveling over this little person who I know I love. Forever and always.

Abby smiles, "He is. He's the only patient toddler I've ever seen. Butterflies will land on his nose and he hardly makes a peep. Of course, Tony can get him giggling like mad, but uh, he's a quiet baby. A perfect angel."

"So funny that we name him after Ducky and he doesn't talk." I joke quietly and Abby smiles along with me, setting her laptop on my food table, and moves the table to the center of the bed. The slide show is set up and I keep my gaze at Tal before I look.

"These are all taken a while after you came back from Africa, Ziva." Abby explains lightly

I glance over at the screen, startled to see myself, McGee, and Tony as I remember them looking. Younger. Only Tony has blue teeth as he smiles good naturedly at the camera.

"What is wrong with Tony's teeth?" I laugh

"Oh, you slipped something in his drink." Abby explained, "He doesn't know about it yet and I convinced you guys to take a picture. The funniest part was when he checked the picture after I took it and was convinced that I manipulated the image. Or maybe it was the part where he flew over to the men's bathroom and shrieked like a girl." She pondered thoughtfully and I laugh

"Did he get back at me?" I ask

Abby shook her head, "It was Halloween and he'd been calling you Probie. That was why you pranked him. Afterwards, he just called you Probie more often." She leaned over, "Sometimes you two role-play."

I stare at her, "_What_?" I hiss, increasingly aware of Tal's little ears.

Abby sighs, "Damn. I hoped that would jog a memory and I'd know if that was true. Unfortunately, you refuse to discuss that part of your life with me, though I've told you plenty about my life with McGee."

"And I am grateful to have forgotten _those_ memories." I add quickly, half hoping that the role-play thing wasn't true.

Abby sighs and flicks the arrow, changing the picture. It is now one of me and Tony in a cornfield. I, for some reason am on his shoulders, massaging his neck.

Abby laughs and explains what is happening to me, as she does with a whole legion of other pictures. It strikes me that each picture has a story behind it, but no matter what the story is, it is not one that I can remember.

Rather it is like I am listening to someone else's life. But at the same time, I hold this baby and I know he isn't someone else's baby. This is my baby, and by some coincidence, that life, that life that I am being told, that is _my life_.

* * *

"Oh really?" Tony asked Abby when she came by to drop off Tal. The park had taken a lot out of him and the two kids still had questions about Mommy. He wasn't too sure they were ready to see her tomorrow.

Abby nodded, shifting Tal over to Tony, and smiled, "Yeah. She fell asleep as I was showing her the pictures of my new computer from 2011." She bends down and picks fussy Jett up from his carrier.

Tony rolls his eyes, "Abby," He bounced Tal up and down, "How did she do with Buddha?"

"Hesitant at first, but after I made her read _Love You Forever_ she seemed much more comfortable with him." Abby hesitated, glancing at Tal who was preoccupied with his father's tie. "She forgot _how_ she interacts with the kids, Tony. You need to tell her how before they visit."

Tony set Tal down on the ground, "Hey buddy, why don't you find David and Sophie? Daddy has to talk to Aunty Abby, okay?"

Tal nodded, toddling a bit before stopping himself and dropping to his knees. Tony frowns, noticing the crawling,

"He's reverting too, isn't he?"

Abby nods, "He's also sucking his thumb. And Miss Julie's worried about David. He's been wetting the bed."

Tony nods, "She told me about that. And Sophie clings to me or Smeeka. It wasn't even this bad during the divorce." He shakes his head, "I think I should take them to see that therapist tomorrow. Just to get an idea of how Ziva should approach them,"

Abby nods, clearly still worried, "And Eli came by. I left when he arrived and he's waiting for her to wake up."

Tony glances over at Abby, surprised, "But what about Yafa?"

His surprise was warranted, as these days, wherever Yafa David went, her husband followed. He wanted to spend all his time with her now, since he'd been so distant during the majority of their marriage. It was rare to hear of the two doing separate things, and Tony knew that Eli didn't tell Yafa about Ziva.

Otherwise, Yafa would be on the phone right now, demanding to know why she wasn't told about her baby.

"She thinks he's doing poker night." Abby chuckles, "Eli says that Yafa's at a knitting circle right now. I'm not sure what that is, but she's making a sweater for Jett. Isn't that nice?"

Tony sighs, relieved that Yafa is blissfully ignorant, "I'm sure the kid will appreciate it." He states stonily

He has never gotten along with Eli David, but Yafa was so unlike Eli and Ziva. She greeted Tony with a large matronly hug and insisted on kissing him on both cheeks as well. After demanding to know if he'd be willing to raise their future children Jewish, she happily insisted on feeding him her special brisket. It would make him a fertile man, apparently.

It'd been almost a year since Tony went over to _Bubbe_'s (as the kids called her) for Shabbat and had some of her life changing challah. Ziva had certainly gotten her cooking skills from her mother, but Tony could see no other personality similarities between the two. In looks, Yafa and Ziva shared heart-shaped faces as well as a slim build.

However, Yafa loved to turn the radio up and insist on dancing with anyone present. She'd tell long rambling stories with the fortitude of Ducky's droll tongue and give advice on every topic whether wanted or not. She'd fret continuously about her family in Israel and talk about everything and anything under the sun. What was funny was that Ziva told him that she was very different now than before Tali died. Before Tali died, apparently she'd been the real life of the party.

Of course, now that Tony was divorced, Yafa did not send him food or call him in the middle of the night, wanting to know if his mole was bigger. He saw her once at the supermarket, stocking up on Eli's favorites, cheese and grapes, and greeted her. She called him something in Yiddish and walked away, leaving her small basket behind.

Tony stared at her, uncomprehendingly. He barely knew Hebrew, let alone Yiddish.

He'd asked Ziva what that word meant the next day. She stiffened and glanced at him,

"She called you what you are, that is all, Tony." Ziva glanced over to the door of her office, "I hope you remember our rule?"

Tony nodded.

_No discussing personal lives at work_

"I hope she's doing well." Tony said truthfully. He did care about the Davids after all. Well, just Yafa. He had never much liked Eli, but he put up with Ziva's father for her sake.

Now that they were divorced however, Tony could openly hate Eli, though he never had the chance brought to him.

Abby nodded, "Eli says she's having mostly good days now. But she's getting anxious and wants to see her grandbabies. I offered Tal for babysitting. Eli liked that idea. He'll be by in the morning to pick up Tal," Abby shifts Jett in her arms, "And I'm late for dinner. Do you guys have dinner?"

Tony nods, "That's fine. And I've got the number of a pizza delivery place so dinner's all set." He grins, though it is not real, "I'll see you tomorrow, Abs."

Abby hugs him, "Me too, Tony. But I'm worried. She barely remembers North Africa, after all."

Tony nods, "She never told you about Saleem?" He asked

Abby shook her head, "You?"

Tony hesitated, "A little. But no details. I think he raped her though,"

Abby frowns, "She doesn't remember rape. Just getting knocked out by a minion,"

Tony sighs, swallowing, "Abby, it really affected her. But she doesn't remember and I don't think that anyone could trigger it for her. I don't even want anyone to do that."

He frowns, "Did you tell her why we divorced?"

Abby shook her head, "It didn't come up."

She gazed at him, horrified, "She doesn't _know_?"

Tony sighs, "Not exactly,"

Abby frowns, "And you need to tell her, otherwise you're going to have a major trust issue in your relationship-_again_."

Tony hung his head, "Yeah, yeah I will."

Abby opens her mouth to counter, but was cut off by the shrill ring of Tony's phone.

It is Jeanne. She wants to know what time to come over, and Tony relays the information casually to Abby. Abby makes a small face, before speaking with a nervous smile, as Jeanne is a sore subject between her and Tony.

"I think that the kids just need to be with their dad right now, Tony." Abby advises him, "They're having a hard time right now and just need some fatherly attention."

Tony nods, "Yeah, okay." He puts his phone away.

Abby doesn't know, but Tony asks Jeanne to come over after the kids' bedtime and watch them while he heads back to the hospital and tells Ziva how to be a mom.

* * *

Jeanne smiles, seeing Tony fast asleep in his car.

She thinks back on the events of the night. David woke up around four AM, looking abashed. Jeanne knew, of course, that he wet his bed (Tony having warned her). She handed him a pair of clean pajama bottoms and told him to clean himself up in the bathroom while she changed his sheets. Twenty minutes later, David is asleep again and Jeanne watched him sleep, feeling like a mother.

She loves these kids. But now she is worried about them. It was clear last night as she tucked David back into bed that he wanted his daddy. The dimple on his face was like Tony's and Jeanne knew how David felt: She wanted Tony too. He was the only person missing from this domestic picture. Tony needed to be next to her, wishing David a good night.

Then they could've gone back to their own bed, discussing how to help David stop his out-of-control habit. Or perhaps how to encourage Tal to talk. These kids need help and Tony is too distracted to notice it. He's distracted by a woman who doesn't deserve his love or these wonderful kids that have already become a part of Jeanne's heart.

But instead, Ziva interrupted. She was sucking Tony dry and now the poor man was asleep inside his car. Eli has already been by, with only a polite smile for Jeanne. He greets the kids lovingly and insists on making eggs for them while she takes a shower. They agree silently to let Tony sleep in the car.

The kids do not notice, but they do ask to go see _Bubeleh_ with Eli. He tells them that they have to go to school and learn new things. But he promises to bring them to see Yafa soon. Jeanne smiles, happy to hear this. Tony has told her how much the kids love their grandparents and that his own are entirely unsuitable for them. She however, knows that her mother will love these kids and be a wonderful grandmother, like Yafa David.

Sophie asks, in a mixture of French and Spanish, if Jeanne will take them to school. Jeanne tells her kindly that Tony will, as he is in the drive with the car. She helps them with their backpacks, gives them their lunch boxes, and walks them both over to the mini-van. Tony is still asleep at the wheel.

Chuckling, Jeanne knocks on the window and Tony jerks awake. The horn honks and the kids screech, giggling as they put their hands over their ears. Tony rolls down his window as he rubs his eyes,

"Hi," He beams at Jeanne, more awake by the second. She hands him a coffee mug and opens the passenger door for the kids, telling David to help Sophie buckle in. Tony leans over to help David with his own car seat, yawning.

Tony's beard is growing in scraggly patches and Sophie tells him he looks like a pirate in German and English. David translates and Tony is amused by this. He explains that he'll shave when he gets a chance, but Jeanne hopes he doesn't. Tony looks handsome in a rugged sort of way.

His blue eyes are brighter now and he is more animated now that he's had five good sips of his coffee, "Best coffee I've had in a while." He takes another sip and sighs cheerfully, "I'll get this zoo over to school. Thanks, Jeanne."

Jeanne grins, happy that he is happy. And that he likes her coffee. Ziva never makes him coffee, she knows.

"Come back after, I'll make you some breakfast." Jeanne tells him, "There are things we should talk about."

Ziva never cooks breakfast either. She is always too busy.

Tony nods, "Okay. I should be back around ten o'clock. I want to check on Ziva after the kids. She's got a therapist this morning and I know she's worried about it. And I'll have to pick up the kids around lunchtime and take them to the hospital. They'll get to see Mommy today."

A cheer comes from the backseat and Tony chuckles. Jeanne smiles as well, though it is less genuine.

"Alright. Today's my day off, so I'll uh, clean the house up a little. It's getting fairly messy, Tony." Jeanne says, smiling, "And Eli already went to go pick Tal up and he's dropping him off later too, sometime in the afternoon."

Tony nods, "That's good." He smiles wearily, "Thanks Jeanne. Love you,"

He puts the car in reverse and starts pulling back. She waves to him, feeling euphoric.

_Love you_

* * *

I sit upright in the hospital bed, unable to sleep. Tony left about an hour ago. And apparently my father was here before, watching me sleep. I am glad I stayed asleep.

My mind keeps going and going as I try to make memories from what I cannot remember. The doctors keep telling me about trauma, and try as I might, I can't make myself remember any more of Africa, except that vision of Saleem standing over me.

My knife is in his hand, dripping with my blood. He growls like a feral bear and I pant, still alive and trying to stay that way. Even if all I can think about are two things:

The look on Tony's face as he stared up at me, panting and his gun pointed at my face. It was one of fear and regret, a face that is all but tattooed in my mind as my dead boyfriend lies there, bleeding.

The look on Gibb's face as he looks at me for the last time and leaves. All I see of him is his back as he gets into the carrier. I do not even see Tony, nor do I allow myself to think about Tony.

But apparently I came back from North Africa, fell in love with Tony, had three children, became Director of NCIS, divorced from Tony, and now dating Damon Werth…I think. I have certainly accomplished a great deal in these ten years missing from my life.

I can't even remember snippets or even a flash. It is like a clean break from the time I black out from Saleem's punch to waking up in this new life as a very different woman, both pregnant and a mother.

I will visit my children today. The older ones that actually talk. She doesn't tell me, but Abby is worried after yesterday. I do not think I acted as I typically do, so taken aback by the sudden realization that this life was very _real_. Seeing Tal, my baby, he made it real.

And now I will see David and Sophie. Children that I've been told stories of, as if I am a stranger hearing about their lives instead of their mother who once knew all these things firsthand.

Apparently I am a good mother. And I hope that I still am.

Tony tells me that I call Sophie cutesy names in other languages. Doushka, sheyna maidel, bambi, that sort of thing. And David is always _tinoukli_, the Hebrew for 'my baby.'

If I give them attention and kiss them a lot, Tony is convinced that they won't be too worried. He admits to being mad that Abby brought Tal to me without his coaching, but he understood. Today, Tal will be with my mother.

It amazes me that my parents actually live here. That I can see my mother whenever I want and that my children call her _Bubeleh_ and eat her rugelach. More so, I am impressed to hear that my father gave up Mossad for her. It seems unreal, like a dream.

Yawning, I drift back to sleep, stopping myself for a second in fear that this _is_ a dream, and I will wake up to Saleem's ugly breath breathing into my face as his eyes glint and he whispers dirty things that I wish remain as blank as these past ten years.

* * *

"Is this Jett?" Gibbs demands to know as he picks up Jett and bounces the baby in his arms, looking very much at ease.

"Jethro Zev in the flesh," Abby said, still folding laundry but watching the pair of them together.

Abby loves to watch Gibbs with his namesake. They are almost too adorable together. Gibbs smiles broadly at Jett, who put his hands all over Gibb's face, a look of intense determination on his face. Gibbs lets out an involuntary laugh and Abby finds herself forgetting to fold clothes as she leans back to watch the pair.

"Abby," Gibbs turns to her, half smiling, "How is she?" Jett's hand is on his nose and the other almost pinching Gibb's cheek.

Abby sighs, "Well she's awake and functioning. She just doesn't remember the last ten years of her life." Gazing at Gibbs, Abby smiles, "But she did get _you_ to remember us after your amnesia, so hopefully you can return the favor."

Gibbs continues to bounce Jett, "Abby, I'm not a doctor or a miracle worker." His eyes soften, "Where are Katie and Sophie? I bought them some gifts from Mexico. And a soccer ball for David, of course."

"School, the lot of them." Abby explains, turning back to her folding, "I'm actually late for work, but my assistant-"

"You have an assistant?" Gibbs asks, alarmed

"When I got pregnant with Katie, Ziva had to find a replacement for me, and Silver did such a good job that I asked Ziva to hire her full time." Abby explained, "It works well, because now I can be a mom without worrying as much about work,"

"This Silver isn't trying to kill you?" Gibbs continues his interrogation, frowning

Abby shakes her head, "No, he's great. I vetted her myself. Made it two weeks without me hating her, so Ziva hired him full time. She's really nice and great at his job. Been working for me four and a half years now,"

"He or she?" Gibbs asked, confused

"I'm not sure," Abby shrugs, "But she does his job without being a total creeper and doesn't need constant guidance. Granted, I hate his taste in music, but she definitely isn't a killer."

"Don't let Sophie hear you talking like this. It's only going to ruin her words even worse." Gibbs said, chuckling. He was familiar with Sophie's _unique_ way of expressing herself.

"Oh I can't even understand her these days. Her lisp is getting worse and she's slurring all her languages together. I don't know how Katie can translate now." Abby frowns

Gibbs stills his bouncing, "Really?"

Abby nods her head in half amazement, "These kids are-" She broke off, "They need Ziva, Gibbs. I mean, Tony's great and all, but he's forgotten how much _work_ it is to raise kids since Ziva forced him on the sidelines. Especially _unique_ kids like these."

A smile tugs at Gibbs' face, "She'll remember," he says simply in his confident, can't-be-wrong, voice.

Abby, comforted, went over and hugged Gibbs. Jett then indulged in his favorite pastime: chewing on the ends of his mother's hair. Tony liked to say that was because he was too bald to chew his own.

At least now Jett has a few respectable strands of brown growing in like peach fuzz. That would put McGee's fears of having a bald son to rest.

* * *

"Can I play with you?" Josh asked David, pushing up his glasses. David was playing with the trucks, pushing them around and his mind was clearly somewhere else.

"No, I'm finished." David explains, standing up. Josh happily takes the truck as David wanders away.

Gracie looks up from her game with Anna and sees David walking against the fence of the playground, staring up at the sky. She sighs and excuses herself from Anna, going over to David.

She slips her hand inside his, her blond braids already unraveling from the running. Daddy braided them himself this morning and they came out chunky, as usual. But Gracie doesn't notice.

Usually Miss Julie rebraids them before her father comes back to pick her up. Gracie wonders if he notices, but he never comments on it and she forgets to ask.

"Hi." She tells David simply and David pulls his hand out of her gesture of friendship and looks at her,

"How's the tree-fort?" He asks and she grins,

"Really cool. Daddy and I played on it until the sky got dark and then he maded me sloppy joes." She said cheerfully, "How was the park?"

David sighs heavily, but doesn't frown, "My daddy pushed me and Sophie on the swings. Then we went on the slides."

"I like the monkey bars." Gracie reminds him and David nods, knowing that. Gracie was the first kid in their class to ace the monkey bars after all. And now she's skipping bars.

"My daddy says that I'll get to see my mommy again today." David explains, "He says that Mommy was in a really bad accident and it wasn't a'cause of me. It was the other driver's fault."

"That's what my daddy said too." Gracie added, and this makes David feel better.

"He's supposed to pick me up early and we're going to get a Happy Meal." David adds, "And he'll turn on the sirens in his car. And he's lettin' me sit up front."

"No he isn't." Gracie says, "You're lying again, David."

"Mommy's meeting us in front of the hosicle and we're all going to McDonalds together. Then we're gonna go home and Daddy's going to build me an even cooler tree-fort." David continues, being obstinate, challenging her almost.

Gracie usually shoots back, telling him that he's a liar. But her daddy told her that she has to be nice to David, because his mommy is really hurt. So Gracie only asks David about how big his tree-fort will be, knowing that David will be at her house after school and his mommy will be in the hospopsicle.

* * *

**I might post a few one shots in the meantime. I just watched all fifteen NCIS:LA episodes in a row. While they aren't as awesome as NCIS, they're better than okay. Especially the last few when it really gets into its own. So at least I've got some inspirational ideas coming up (for NCIS, not NCIS: LA, interestingly enough). But I've always had a thing for Chris O'Donnell (Robin, Finn Dandridge and now G Callen) so he might end up making a few guest apperances in later ficlets (I doubt this one though, since I have a certain way I like to approach x-overs).**

**Not to mention my own take on Jetlag. But honestly, every single TIVA-worshipper must have their take. I should start a community devoted to just stories based off or containing a Jetlag tag or something...*ponders***

**See you guys in two weeks! Read and review. Add something about your favorite moment from this year's Olympics, or even admit that you haven't watched 'em yet, then go watch it. They might be dominated by the corporate industry now, but it's still pretty effing cool to watch Anton Apolo Ohno...in general. Or the figure skating. I like to watch the figure skating and mock the men's outfits while secretly wishing I was their partner. I have a real thing for shiny spandex dresses and ice skates, apparently...**


	4. New Memories

**Checklist:**

**Disclaimer…Check**

**Apologize Profusely to Readers…Check**

**Come up with an excuse for being a terrible updater…Check**

**Ask for Reviews…Check**

**Complain about USTiva…Check**

**Tell Betherezz that Damon's not getting no love no more…Check**

**Thank Kewl(insert random numbers here) for reminding me to update…Check**

**Thank everyone else for being awesome enough to review…Check**

**Inform readers that there is no Jeanne in the chapter…Check**

**Talk unnecessarily about a topic that interests nobody except for myself…Check**

**World Peace…Pending**

**Chapter Four: New Memories**

---

My mind goes back to Wahid today, my best friend in childhood. I cannot help but think of him as I read the papers about the 4th anniversary of Peace in the Middle East. The newspaper itself is on an electronic device rather like a Kindle, but flatter and wider, almost. The nurse explains kindly that newspaper went obsolete years ago.

Gibbs must've retired at that point, I conclude with some amusement.

Despite being here last night, Tony is here again, checking his e-mail on a similar device that looks a bit like my so-called 'newspaper'. He has been here since nine-thirty. Also, he is wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday: rumpled black trousers and an untucked white button-shirt. I wonder if he ever got home and slept. Judging from the growth on his jaw, he hasn't gotten a chance to shave either.

I ask about the kids and Tony explains that Sophie and David go to a nursery school near Navy Yard. Typically, I put Tal in an NCIS Day Care, which was one of the first things I established as Director. But today, Tal is with my mother.

It is too difficult for me to think about my mother or even be able to grasp the idea that she is actually here, in Washington DC. Tony likes her, I think.

I start reading a Hebrew newspaper, one that is established after my memory. There is a picture of a classroom with Palestinian and Israeli children learning together. It almost brings tears to my eyes as I think of Wahid's last smile, the way the light wind tousled his hair and the sparkle in his eyes.

I am barely wrapping my head around all the _good_ that has happened to my homeland. The last suicide bombing is three years ago and the government underwent a major reconstruction process. Tony says I am ambivalent about the Prime Minister, but that we visit Israel every summer, so that the kids will know their heritage.

"What are you thinking about?" Tony asks me, leaning back in his seat, looking at me with a half-smile on his face. His eyes are greener than blue today.

"Wahid," I tell him, wondering if he knows who Wahid is, "Did I tell you about him?"

"Your best friend," Tony says lightly, remembering something that I should too. He glances at me, "We seriously debated whether to use Donald or Wahid for Tal, but Ducky won out because the kids liked it better."

I smile, happy to hear that Tony knows about my past. Then I wonder if he knows it all. Did I confide everything in Tony?

"Do you know all my past?" I ask him quietly, curious

Tony sighs, "We were married for close to seven years, Zee. You learned a lot about me, and I did about you. There were very few topics off limits."

"What were they?" I ask, curious, "The unspeakable topics?"

Tony sighed, "Ari, North Africa, and-" He breaks off, staring at the floor instead of me, "Our divorce."

"Really?" I ask, surprised

The nurse walks in with a wheelchair, smiling. It must be time for my therapy appointment and I find myself saddened to leave Tony. He helps me walk over to the wheelchair, the warmth of his hand covering mine. The side of his body is flush against mine and I feel strangely giddy.

Tony smiles, his grip growing tighter on mine, "I haven't held your hand in a long time. These days, Sophie's the only one who holds my hand."

I stare up at him, butterflies knotting around my stomach, as I think about Sophie, "When will I meet Sophie and David?"

"After the therapist tells me what he thinks." Tony explains, "Gibbs will be here when you get back."

I nod again and I look at Tony, trying to get the message across: "I love Tal, Tony. I know that."

Tony smiles, "Good…Hopefully that might make it easier for you to handle the other two." He explains lightly, and I see the worry evident in his eyes.

_What if I don't remember?_

*

"Uncle Gibbs!" Sophie shrieks, running over to Gibbs with Smeeka in her hand. Her gapped smile is wide and Gibbs, the object of her devotion, bends down and greets her tackle into his arms with a laugh of his own.

She hugs him tightly around his neck and he feels a rush of memories come to him. Mainly of Kelly, as Sophie and Katie often lead him down that path. At first, it was painful for him to be around them without comparing them to his own little girl. But now, they are growing into their own personalities. The two are no less or worse than Kelly, a fact he knows now.

"Hello honeybunch." Gibbs says to Sophie, smiling broadly at her, "You're getting to be a big girl."

In actuality, Sophie fits just right in his arms, but the compliment makes her beam.

"I losted _dos_ _shiniam_." She informed him proudly, showing off her newly gapped smile. There was one front tooth missing and one of her bottom molars.

"Really? Did the Tooth Fairy come?" Gibbs asked, now seeing Tony with David. Tony appears to be frustrated, judging from the line between his face, but trying not to let David see it. They'd stopped walking and were now just talking quietly.

"_Qui_. I gotted _kronen_. I forgotted _kamah_, _aval_ Mommy promised t' teach me how to count dem."

"You got Russian coins from the Tooth Fairy?" Gibbs whistled, "That sounds very special, Sophie."

Sophie beams, happy to bask in the attention she was receiving from her honorary uncle, "Mama _oseh_ that it was _meduchat_ fairy _l'osobee doushkas_."

"Yes, that sounds like the special fairy for special girls." Gibbs agreed and Sophie beamed

"I hope _Imma_ tells the thory _al ha _fairy." Sophie adds, worried, "_Ani lo zachar_ it anymores."

"Well, I don't know if Mommy will remember for you, but I know a version of that story." Gibbs promised for her, still smiling though he was worried on the inside, "Ah, and is this Smeeka?"

Sophie smiles, "_Da_. He misseth you and _Maman_."

"I'm honored," Gibbs said delicately, "He looks like he needs a bath." Gibbs added pointedly. Usually he could get Sophie to part with the blanket for a few minutes while someone ran it through water and wrung it out a few times.

She only held onto it tighter, "Smeeka needs me." Sophie said firmly and Gibbs didn't argue. Her face was set just like Ziva's when she wanted something and nothing was going to stop her from getting it.

"Okay sweetheart." Gibbs soothed her worry that he'd try to take her blanket away.

"Hey Gibbs." Tony greeted him wearily and hesitated, "I have to go and uh, get Ziva from the therapy."

"_Ani rotzah_ _Papar!_" Sophie yelled, releasing her hold on Gibbs and reaching out to Tony. She wants Tony.

Tony sighed, "You know what princess? You have to wait here for Mommy. Now I can go and get her or Uncle Gibbs can."

Sophie looked between the two of them before looking at Tony, her big green eyes matching his, _"Dodi kamah_ get Mama. I _rotzah_ _Abbali_."

"Abbali's not a word." David told her, annoyed. Smiling tightly, Tony took her from Gibbs. He could correct Ziva's speech all the time, but it was too difficult with Sophie. His grip on languages began and ended with the United States and Mexico.

"_Mah_ is?" Sophie demanded, eyes flashing. She was too proud to hear that she had made a mistake in her speech. A spitfire, just like her mother.

"Well you can say _Abba sheli_ or just _Abba_." David told her simply, "And you're still mixing up all your words."

Sophie's face scrunched up and Tony knew this was going to lead to an argument between the two of them. He made a quick move to intervene by opening the door to Ziva's empty room. It did the job of distracting the two children from their imminent fight.

"I'll go get her." Gibbs clapped Tony on the shoulder, "Got your six, DiNozzo." He muttered in a quieter voice that only Tony could hear.

"Thanks boss," Tony said gratefully, bending down to pick up Sophie and bouncing her lightly up and down as he ushered David inside the room. Gibbs half smiled, thinking that at least DiNozzo wasn't a bad father.

Not that he'd been a bad husband actually. But Gibbs didn't know the full story. He'd been in Baja when the news broke. It'd been a surprise to him and neither party was telling him any details nor did scuttlebutt.

*

"I don't remember." I say for the thirtieth time, frustrated with the therapy "I really am trying, but I cannot remember anything."

The psychiatrist, Dr. Penelope Conroy, sighed. She had pictures of what had happened on the Damascus and I told her the story of how Daniel Shalev came to be dead. I was able to recount how much turmoil I felt for the loss on the ship, particularly that of Daniel's. He was an American, after all, even if he was AWOL.

Aviv Berger died on that mission. He was new to Mossad, only two years. Very green, but capable and had a way with puns. He reminded me a bit of McGee. I was not close to him, but I trusted him implicitly, just as I did my father and Malachi Ben-Gidon, the team leader.

Malachi shot Daniel and we, together, shot everyone on the ship before making a run to Somalia. Standard procedure when caught in a snafu like that.

I remember Malachi being on my tail and I remember that he could not continue on our mission after we set foot on Somalia. I wonder how he got back home.

Dr. Conroy assures me that Malachi is not dead from that incident. He is, however, dead. Only his death was much later. Last year, to be exact.

He had a wife, Rivka. She wanted to have a baby, but God never blessed her in that respect. If it wasn't for Rivka, I would've convinced Malachi to help me finish out the mission.

But like he said, it was suicide. Though he didn't add it, we both knew that he had people to live for. I, however, felt as if I did not. So I went on in my mission to kill Saleem Ulmaan.

I remember how close I was to killing him.

I remember being tied and bound by the guards.

I remember Saleem holding my knife, which shone with my blood and sweat.

I remember the cruel sneer on his face.

I remember feeling powerless.

I remember praying to God for a miracle.

I remember how his fist felt as it contracted with the side of my head.

I remember waking up to smell alcohol and lemons. As well as the more awkward one of trying to figure out whether I was wearing underwear.

Dr. Conroy just scribbles down what I have told her. Her face remains as emotionless as it was at the beginning of our session and I wonder if I will ever remember these last ten years.

"How are you adjusting to what you've been told about your life now?" She asks, looking at me curiously.

I shift, feeling uncomfortable. I have never liked talking about myself after all. That was always Tony's style.

"I was married to Tony DiNozzo, my former partner. We're divorced and I still don't understand how we got married in the first place." I pause, my brow furrowed, "When I thought of Tony-when we were apart-I can't remember falling in love with him. I mean, enough in love to marry him."

"So you love him?" The therapist pushes and I sigh

"When I first met Tony, I thought he was like the other men in my life…Disposable. But after a while, he became…" I pause, unable to think of the correct words, "What is it called? The machine that squirts out soap in the bathrooms?"

"Hand dispenser," Dr. Conroy tells me

I smile, satisfied, "That is it. He became indispensible. I feel-_felt_ his loss very strongly, but I was moving on."

"You were going on a suicide mission." Dr. Conroy told me gently

"I was serving my country." I shot back, and added with a second thought: "Israel, that is."

Dr. Conroy sighs, leaning back, "So despite the fact that Tony became _indispensible_ to you, you cannot fathom being married to him?"

I laugh shortly, "Yes. It is ridiculous. He is _Tony_ and I am Ziva. It is like…" I pause and shake my head, unable to explain. The doctor stares at me, wanting an explanation.

"Tony is Ilsa and I am Rick." I finish, unable to explain it any better than that

The therapist frowns, confused, "Do you mean _Casablanca_?"

"Yes. I saw the movie with Tony. It is very good," I assure Dr. Conroy, thinking back to those days with Tony when he'd come to my house brandishing a DVD and I'd have the wine out and anticipating the pizza.

"Why don't you explain a little better for me, Ziva?" The therapist asks kindly, "Help me understand."

That is too much for me. I don't want her to know about what I think of Tony and me. That I think we never would've succeeded together simply because we are too different. I cannot understand how I married him.

Perhaps it was the temptation of children. I always wanted kids, but wrote them off very early in life. And now I am expecting my forth. My forth kid and I can't even remember what pregnancy is like.

"My children should be here by now." I say instead, and Dr. Conroy understands that I am unwilling to discuss, at length, my relationship with Tony.

"Ah yes. Have you seen them yet?" She asks, handling my change of subject easily

"Not Sophie and David. But I met Tal yesterday. He is two years and four months old with my eyes and my hair and my everything else. I love him," I declare, knowing that at least, is the truth.

"But you don't remember him before yesterday?" The doctor prompts

I nod, thinking of how _familiar_ it felt to have Tal resting next to me, his head burrowed into my side.

"It feels like _déjà vu_. The sensations when I hold him," I explain, feeling silly, "I know he's my son."

"Are you looking forward to seeing Sophie and David as well?" Dr. Conroy asks quietly, curious, "They're the older children, right?"

I nod, "David is the oldest. He will be seven in November. Sophie turned four a month ago."

I pause as sudden memories of a forth birthday party flash into my mind. But it is the wrong party. It is the birthday party of my cousin's daughter, Razi. Tikvah, one of my closest friends, was there as well, bouncing her baby boy and talking about how old he was getting. Old indeed. It feels like a month and Ruven is now ten years old.

I miss Tikvah. I wonder if anyone has spoken to her. I never talked too much about my friends and family in Israel to my American friends.

I still remember being thirteen with her. Tikvah and I spent most of our time at the beach, painting our nails and trying to attract the attention of the surfers who were always looking for more endowed girls. Tali would always tag along and we'd try to lose her.

Tikvah was the only person I allowed myself to cry in front of. We cried about Tali together, as well as her husband, Ruven's father.

She set me up with Michael and I ended up falling in love with him.

I do not know what she thinks of Tony.

I think I need her now. She was always the person I told everything to.

And I need her to fill in these gaping blank spaces now. Because she would know the answers.

*

Damon parked the car and walked into the hospital, feeling uncomfortable. He hated visiting Ziva here. But mostly he hated hospitals.

Ever since Lillie died in the hospital, he generally avoided them like the plague. He felt guilty for only visiting Ziva once when she was unconscious, but Tony was holding vigil over her and he wasn't backing down.

Damon didn't like dealing with Tony. So he let Tony be there for Ziva and set his flowers down in a corner, gratefully leaving.

He couldn't take it. The memories came to him as the scent of blood and ethanol wafted up his nose. Lillie was a fighter. She squeezed his hand and screamed like hell. Then all of a sudden, the doctor was telling him to leave. Nurses were pushing him out and it was only the threat that something might happen to Lillie and their baby if he stayed that convinced him to leave.

So he waited in the little waiting room, listening dully to all the tears around him. The shuffling and the murmured conversations. He watched a doctor break the bad news to an aging old man. The man broke down and cried on the chair as the doctor moved to sit next to him, still talking in a soft voice.

That wouldn't happen to him. His wife was a fighter.

But it did. Mother of all mothers, the doctor walked toward him with that look on his face. The look that said, _Dead_.

Lillie was dead and Damon was left with a baby girl who was half blinking at him. She was all pruney and red. Not at all attractive like the babies on TV, but Damon already loved the little nudger. He fancied that he could see bits of Lillie and him in her. But mostly, she just looked like a little baby. He had named her Lillian Werth, after her mother, but he couldn't call her that. So mostly he called her Baby.

And he sang to her at night. He didn't know any lullabys or nursery rhymes. So, he sang patriotic songs, like The Star Spangled Banner, Battle Hymn of the Republic, God Bless the USA, Yankee Doodle, and Amazing Grace. He loved singing Amazing Grace to her because this little baby _truly_ was his very own amazing grace.

And after a while, he began calling her Gracie. The name fit her like a glove.

Now she was a very active six year old with her mother's wispy blond hair and his dark blue eyes. She preferred to have her hair in two sets of French braids, but Damon could barely do the two pigtails. However, Ziva could have Gracie decked out in any hairstyle within a matter of minutes.

Ziva. When Damon had seen her again, almost four years ago, he never dreamed of a romantic relationship with her. Their kids were in pre-school together and the best of friends. So he became friends with Ziva and Tony, but more Ziva. Tony had never much liked him, and Damon always chalked it up to the fact that he was a man and someone that Tony's wife had admired in the past.

But Ziva was loyal and Damon respected that. However, that changed when she divorced her husband. He stayed her friend, planning to slowly help her come around to the idea of something more as the years passed. He would go slowly. But slowly changed that night when Ziva showed up at his door, sobbing about Tony.

He tried to give her tea and she knocked it out of his hands, saying she wanted to forget about Tony. Everything about Tony. So she tried to use him to erase Tony.

And Damon let her. He couldn't help it. Ziva was like the sun and he couldn't stand to make her sadder. So he embraced her invitation and it paid off for him. She loved him enough to consider a long term relationship.

So for a few weeks, he walked around with a giant smirk on his face that nobody could wipe off. He could see his future with her as easily as a pond with clear water. The kids wouldn't feel threatened by him since he'd been around so long. And Gracie would love having Ziva as a mother and David as her stepbrother.

Then he found out she was pregnant and unsure of who the father was. Damon promised her that he didn't care as long as she stayed with him. Sobbing, Ziva hugged him and tried to rationalize what they both wanted: Damon's baby inside of her.

He found Ziva's room and David greeted him off the bat with a hug. Damon pulled David up, grinning. He loved David DiNozzo, after all. The kid asked the most interesting questions and he had a smile on his face that came straight from his mother.

Tony however, was not smiling. His face flashed, but he didn't say anything. Sophie happily greeted Damon with her typical gibberish and he smiled warmly at her,

"It's good to see you too, Sophers. You guys hungry? I brought some Chewy bars with me, just in case." He held one up for David, who happily took it

"I asked Daddy for money to use the vending machine but he wouldn't let me." David informed Damon as he tried to open the granola bar packet. Damon handed the other one to Tony, who opened it for Sophie.

"I told you, David. Daddy doesn't have any change. But I'll get you and Sophie lunch after this." Tony explained with a tight smile as he set Sophie down and handed her the granola bar, "Thanks for the snack, Wer-Damon."

Tony had to call Werth 'Damon' in front of the kids. And he had to be cordial. Both things annoyed the crap out of him, but he did it because Ziva asked.

Even if she forgot she asked. But he didn't forget.

Damon nodded and set David down, "How's she doing?"

Sophie skipped over and hugged Damon's leg, "I _wiero Mama_." She announced simply

"_Quiero Mama_," Tony corrects Sophie's Spanish absently, though she pays it no mind. She just keeps looking at Damon for his reaction to her simple request for her mother.

"Me too." Damon told her, just as frank.

"Well, we can't always have what we want." Tony said lightly, "But Sophie, Mommy's coming soon, Daddy promises, okay?"

Sophie nodded, but didn't let go of Damon's leg. She just stared up at Damon, her face solemn, but it was threatening to crack with a small smile. In return, he offered her a broad grin and walked with her on his leg, squealing happily. It was one of her games with him. Tal would grab the other leg and they loved how Damon could lift them up and down with ease.

Tony didn't scowl, but Damon could tell he wanted to.

The door opened again, and Gibbs appeared with Ziva in a wheelchair. Sophie stayed clinging to Damon and David sort of stood there for a second. Both kids looked at their mother apprehensively.

Ziva didn't blink and look at them bewilderedly, as she had with Damon. Instead she composed herself and opened her arms as Tony had suggested she do earlier.

And like that, Sophie was attached to her mother's lap. David was a little slower, but he too, was holding her arm as some sort of physical confirmation that she was okay.

Gibbs and Tony helped Ziva get transferred into the bed and neither told the kids to get off. Ziva looked at them with the same gentle smile on her face. But Damon knew that smile too well. It was a frozen one that she used. A default setting.

She typically wore it when Tony was around.

She didn't remember the kids. Damon would stake his life on it.

*

It is almost too surreal to see Sophie and David. For a few seconds, I stared at them and I knew I could not disappoint. I smiled, though I did not feel like smiling, and greeted them warmly. It worked well, as Sophie darted over to me and happily babbled away in a mixture of badly pronounced English, Hebrew, Russian, German, Spanish, French, and perhaps some Greek. I'm not certain. But at least I can keep up, despite her mispronunciations.

David is quieter, but he argues with his sister on minor points and pitches into the conversation, though he is not as loud or as demanding as his sister. They are overwhelming, the two of them.

David looks like Tali. I did not expect that. I expected he would look more like Tal, like me. But he has brown eyes flecked with green-gold, dark brown hair that is very nearly black, and it is almost painful for me to look at his smile.

"_Achot! Look at what I found!" Tali beams up at me, showing me the gray kitten, "Meet Tzipora. Isn't she cute?"_

My heart aches for Tali.

But I smile and I keep him close to me. Already I am overprotective of this little boy.

As for Sophia Jenny, she is nothing if not a miniature Tony. However, I can see myself in her. I am in her face, and though she is very pale, I have no doubt she could tan. In fact, it is odd she is not more tan, considering that she is the offspring of an Israeli and an Italian.

I probably slather her with sunscreen. That would make sense, considering the dangers of skin cancer. I don't even remember knowing _this_ much about skin cancer. My mind feels overwhelmed with all these facts now. I try to brush away my mind re-cataloging of the percentages of deaths in skin cancer.

I feel spent after only thirty minutes with them. They are chatterboxes, after all, and it is frustrating to keep up with their stories when I don't know half the characters in them, but I should. What made it even more difficult is the three grown men looking at me like I'm a bomb about to go off.

"Kids, Damon's going to take you guys to his house." Tony tells them kindly, sensing my weariness. The kids protest, begging to stay with me and I am touched. Clearly I am loved.

"Mommy will be home tomorrow," I tell Sophie when she is on the verge of tears. I eye the ratty discolored blanket she clutches with such force and decide not to comment on it for now, "And I love my card." I add, pointing to where it is on my bedstand.

Sophie sniffles, "_Zachor_? Momma shows _ani_ _les letters_?"

She was asking if I remembered teaching her how to write my name: Alef-mem-alef. I did not, but I know how to write _Imma_. My heart twists itself when I look into her face. It is big and hopeful, much like many of my memories of Tony.

"_We never let other people know what we are thinking." Tony informed me, his words betrayed by the curve of his smile and the look that hadn't left his eyes since I informed him that page fifty-seven 'works every time' for me._

"_You are thinking about doing page fifty-seven with me." I conclude with a smirk, easily reading his face._

I wonder if I ever did that infamous page with him.

"I remember _shaya maidel_." I tell her softly and kiss her on the nose. She beams and kisses me on the cheek, happily submitting to go with Damon now. He smiles at me and I smile back at him, still uneasy about the new state of our relationship. At least with Tony I had a history.

I turn to David, who hasn't moved. He has a mournful look on his face and I gather him into a hug. I don't want to see him sad.

"What's wrong, _boychik_?" I ask him, stroking his hair. He smiles a little at the expression

"I thought there might be a _dybukk_ in you. Like in _Bubbeleh_'s stories." He admitted and I laugh, recognizing my mother's words. She would tell Tali and me stories about the devil when we were younger.

I have seen evil spirits before. I can only hope that he will never see such sights.

"No devils are inside Mommy, _tinook_." I promise him, "Now stop looking like a _farbissen_ and be good for Damon?" I tease him, thinking accurately that my mother's Yiddish soothes him.

After all, Yiddish was always my favorite language, French second. There is something about Yiddish. It is like the heart calling to home. And French is something like the heart calling out to other hearts. Both are very beautiful languages, to be sure.

He gives me another hug and dutifully leaves with Damon, both kids waving good-bye to me. I wave back, still stunned that I even have children.

I wonder how I do with them on a daily basis.

"You did great." Tony tells me cheerfully, his eyes blazing blue, almost too painful to look directly at. I suspect there are rimmed tears, but it is difficult to tell.

Gibbs nods and walks over, gazing at me, "How are you, Ziver?"

I smile, happy to see Gibbs, and happier still to hear that he still has affection for me, despite what has happened in the past.

"I missed you, Gibbs." I admit softly, "I cannot believe that I was saved by NCIS in North Africa and now I am married." I pause, "And divorced."

"Well you've got a ways to catch up with me when it comes to divorce rates." Gibbs says kindly, "But I think these kids are proof enough,"

I nod, "They are. They're…" I pause, "Sunreal."

"Surreal." Tony corrects softly, "Are you sure you're ready for tomorrow? Living with the kids?"

Worry seizes my heart, "Will I be by myself?"

"No." Gibbs assures me gently, glancing at Tony, "We'll be there,"

"Yeah." Tony's phone rings and he sighs, "Ugh, I'll have to get back to work. Make an honest living and all that." He smiles warmly at me and leaves.

I frown, knowing that I am the boss.

"If I am Tony's boss, then who is on the team now?" I ask Gibbs

Gibbs sighs, "Well, you stopped working with us when you became pregnant with David. Leon took you under his shoulder and I took in Daniel Wilson as your replacement."

"Daniel Wilson." I repeat, trying to conjure up a face to the name. It sounds familiar but I cannot put my tongue on it.

"He was a FLET-C agent who rookie'd with us on that Quantico bank robbery." Gibbs explains for me, "Good agent and one of the best men that you know,"

"Ah." I nod, able to bring in a fuzzy memory of this Daniel Wilson. He was married, but Tony had liked him. Said the man had higher principles than most.

Gibbs nods vaguely and continues, "When I retired, Tony took my place. He brought in Josh Cooper to fill the empty slot."

"The-uh-the college student. Tony kept in touch with him." I say, recognizing Josh Cooper. His father had been killed in a sandblast and Tony took a shine to the grieving son.

Gibbs nods, "That's the one. However, since they were all men, you insisted on a female agent. So you brought in Galit Bar Orr and gave McGee his own team."

"Little Galit?" I look at Gibbs surprised.

After all, Galit Bar Orr is only twelve years old…no, she would be twenty-three now. I have forgotten about Galit. I hope I kept my promises to her.

"_I want you to meet someone who means a great deal to me," Michael told me with a smile, leading me down a street to someone's home, "You remember my sister, Mira?"_

_I nod, leaning into him as I did so. Mira died in a terrorist attack, along with her husband a long time ago. Michael had been just twenty back then and I was dating Avi, his best friend._

_Now Avi is dead, as is Mira and a good deal of other people our age. People we grew up with. People we served with. People who were not ready to leave. I leaned toward him for the unsaid reminder that I would be there for him if I could. Death was not a matter undertaken lightly by any Mossad Officer or anyone currently engaged in serving their country._

"_Well, I wanted you to meet the only bit of family I still have left." Michael said softly, "My niece. Galit's with me for the weekend. I thought you might like to meet her."_

Galit had been a small scrawny thing back then. Not much more than four feet nine and skinner than a paperclip. But she had wispy dark brown hair and electric gold-green eyes. She greeted me with a hug before demanding that we sing and dance along to every single song currently on the Israeli Top 50 charts. Michael got worn out easily, but I managed to keep up with her, French-braided her hair, and painted nails with her while watching old kung-fu films. At one point, I even helped her bake cookies.

I remember being sad to leave Michael and Galit when it came time for me to come home. After all, it felt like home here too. Galit insisted that we keep in touch, and we did. She sent me long e-mails about her life and I was happy enough to write back more queries and advice for her. Michael worried too much about her, but she would be fine.

Then he died and I moved to Israel. Galit came to my house in the middle of the night once and I led her to the couch. She cried on me as I rubbed her back and soothed her down. She wanted to know who killed Michael, the only real family that she had left. I did not tell her.

The last I remember, I spoke to a few old friends and put Galit inside a private kibbutzim near Ashdod. They promised to keep an eye on her and I promised to come back after my mission. And I did, between them. She did better and better each time, and I felt reassured that I did the right thing.

But it was unsettling to hear that Galit was in America now. And not just in America, but on Tony's team. After all, Tony killed her uncle.

"Galit may be little, but she's a tough one, according to Tony." Gibbs says drily.

"Has she come to see me?" I ask, curious.

"It's hard for her to get the time off when her boss and her boss's boss are both too distracted. I assume she's just trying to get through the larger workload. Tony's having McGee cover for him and the other team while the interim NCIS director runs things." Gibbs explains lightly

"Who is the interim NCIS director?" I ask, still following Gibbs, though my mind was whirling from this latest revelation. _Why did Galit move here_?

"Hetty Lange. She usually fields the LA office, but SecNav has her in charge for the next two weeks. And I wouldn't worry about your job. Hetty isn't exactly looking for a promotion." Gibbs assured Ziva, "So just do what the doctor ordered. Rest, relax, remember."

"I cannot accomplish the first two unless I do the last. And I will never remember anything." I sigh mournfully, "I look at my daughter and I do not remember her, Gibbs. I look at David and I do not remember what he asks of me. I look at Tony's wedding ring. I do not remember placing it on him."

"Yeah?" Gibbs asked, "Well I do, and that's enough for now. These are the facts of your life and you should get used to them. The remembering comes after that." His gaze hardens, "You aren't the only one with experience in amnesia."

I recall suddenly the explosion. The one that brought Gibbs fifteen years back.

"Fifteen years," I say quietly, gazing at him

"I woke up thinking that my wife and daughter were alive. It took a while before I remembered they died." Gibbs said quietly, staring at me, "I woke up with three divorces that I didn't remember and a job that I didn't know existed."

"Did it all come back when I pressed you? Made you slap me?" I ask, curious

Gibbs shook his head, "The rest of it did. But I got some flashes. Bits and pieces." He paused, thinking of his second meeting of Jenny. The memories of Paris inflamed him suddenly. He thought he was a cheating man before he realized in that same thought that his wife was dead.

He wanted Shannon. He still wanted her. So badly.

"You have any flashes?" He asks me

I shake my head sadly, "Not even a blimp."

"Blip." Gibbs chuckles, smiling at me

"Although," I hesitate, "I keep remembering things I didn't know. Random facts."

Gibbs looks at me, eyes piercing and I continue

"I was trying to figure out why Sophie is pale when her parents are tan. And I wrote it off as sunscreen because of how dangerous skin cancer is. Suddenly, my brain was throwing all these random facts at me. Like skin cancer rates going through the roof for young girls and citations from magazines I didn't even know existed."

Gibbs nods, "That's because when Sophie was a baby, you found a small mole on her back. It wasn't a birthmark and you were worried that it was an indication of skin cancer."

"Oh." I breathe, gazing at Gibbs, "Does she-"

"Sophie is technically, a survivor." Gibbs confirmed, "The doctors took her mole out right away and she was back to normal within a few weeks, thanks to this decade's advanced medicine and technology. But you were always worried that it'd come back so you take extra measures with her."

I shake my head, "I forgot that my daughter had cancer and she fought it."

"But you remember _why_ you always slather her with sunscreen." Gibbs explained quietly, "These articles will remind you to sunscreen her and the boys everyday, as you always do."

I sigh, "I much rather have a memory of her then newfound knowledge of skin cancer, Gibbs."

Gibbs gazes at me thoughtfully, "Well now you do."

"I do?" I ask

He nods, "She was just here. You remember her sitting in your lap and telling you all about her day at school?"

"Yes." I say

"There's a memory of your daughter, Ziver. Hold onto _that_ one." Gibbs says gently, grinning at me and I smile, understanding.

*

Damon comes back to visit me as the doctor helps me move to my wheelchair. Not that I will be saying good bye to this hospital anytime soon. Apparently, I have a biweekly appointment with Dr. Conroy until further notice. And only on her say-so, will I be allowed to go back to work.

"Hey," He smiles at me, "I'm uh, taking you to your car, Ziva." He glances down at the bump, which is still very much nonexistent. I wake up every morning, staring at it, waiting for myself to get bigger.

But now that I've had a good look, I can see the stretch-marks of previous pregnancies. I also see many healed scars that criss-cross my body. Scars I don't remember, but I'm certain they originate from ten years ago.

My hair is shorter, but still manageable. There are wrinkles and my skin seems paler, but I don't look so bad for a person about to turn forty.

Even though I've seen the kids, I _am_ worried about home. What if I do something wrong? What if I slip up and they realize that I'm a complete fake?

"Zee?" Damon grins nervously, waving his hand in front of my face. I nod, shaking myself out of that zone. Smiling nervously at him, I attempt to get up, but the orderly lightly presses down on my shoulder.

"Sorry, Mrs. DiNozzo-David, but you're required to remain in the wheelchair until I have escorted you off the premises." The nurse explained to me, laughing nervously, "Just let me check the discharge papers and your driver is free to take you home."

She leaves and I am alone with Damon. I smile at him, very aware of the fact that I am wearing a pair of ratty purple pajamas and a shirt with a picture of a large sheep on it. Abby's clothes, apparently. She wanted me to be comfortable when I left the hospital, though I would've preferred a pair of khaki cargos and an olive green long sleeve.

Oy, what if I don't own these sort of clothes anymore? What if all I have are these high waist jeans and the vests with glitter on them? Or worse, the flowered paisley dresses that my mother preferred to wear in her heyday. She might've been able to pull off a muumuu, but I am _not_ a mother-

Except for the fact that I am. A mother of almost four.

But I will, in this state of mind, throw away such clothes and find my khakis again. Good lord, if I ever went out in public in such motherly clothes…

"Don't worry, you can change into your cargoes when you get home," Damon said cheerfully, "But I think Tony wants you in bed right away, so you're all set, clothes-wise."

I glance at him, confused to see that he knew what I'd been thinking about. Well, at least somewhat.

"Is To-Do Tony and I live together?" I ask, feeling awkward about asking my supposed boyfriend this question.

Damon shook his head, "No. He has an apartment about five minutes away, but Tony's been crashing in the guest bedroom of your house since the accident. Your house is bigger anyway, and the kids really just go to his place for weekends. I assume Tony will leave once you get settled in," Damon added casually, though Ziva could tell that it bothered him

"Do we have sleepovers?" I ask, hesitating

Damon nods, "Yeah, but mostly weekends. It's just easier, because of the kids,"

"All set!" The nurse came back, smiling warmly, "Mr. Werth, why don't you bring your vehicle around and I'll escort your girlfriend."

Damon nodded and walked away, while I was wheeled down a different direction by the nurse. I had no doubt that Damon would be standing in front of the hospital, one foot on his sleek, shiny car, smirking at me.

Sure enough, he was. Only, it wasn't a sleek shiny car. It was a hybrid truck. I didn't recognize the brand or the make, but the color was almost translucent, blending with the surroundings. Very Damon.

He, like a gentleman, opened the door for me and I was grateful to get out of the chair and take my first few steps into the world as I (no longer) know it.

The scenery was very different from what I remembered. The Mall was longer, but it was relieving to hear the familiar sirens of the president's motorcade clogging up traffic in Washington DC. At least that was still present.

Tourists still lined the streets, taking pictures with devices I couldn't even begin to describe, except that McGee would be astonished at me forgetting how to use such 'simple' things.

There were advertisements for drinks I didn't recognize, and Damon had one such drink in his cupholder. Only it was empty. I wondered what it tasted like, a silly thought.

How many new tastes had I missed out on? I almost dreaded the idea of logging onto my computer and clicking on the Internet now.

I told Damon just that, and he chuckles,

"Oh Ziva, the Internet's obsolete now. Everyone accesses digital information from metal skullcaps. You just _think_ it, and the information comes to you."

"Really?" I ask, half frightened

Damon nods, "Yeah. But since you've forgotten, they'll probably have to redo the operation on you. If it's possible,"

"Operation?" I ask faintly, and despite my distress, I spy the beginnings of a twitch at Damon's mouth.

"You liar!" I declare, laughing. And his dark blue eyes twinkle knowingly,

"Glad to see your lie detecting skills are still intact," He said cheerfully, "Don't worry. We aren't using metal skullcaps yet, but it's a thought, isn't it?"

"It's something." I say, shaking my head.

We pull up in front of a brick house with climbing ivy. The driveway is already full of cars, again unknown makes and models to me. But I already know that the black one with monogrammed skulls is Abby's.

Damon opens my door and helps me out. I take his hand, feeling how cool it is. Unlike Tony's, it doesn't make me feel tingles of warmth everywhere. However, I have a prickly feeling in the back of my neck, as if I am about to be attacked.

"Ziva?" Damon asked warily, looking at me. He reached up with his other hand to touch my shoulder. A second later, I had him disarmed on the ground, crouched into a defensive posture, my heart racing.

He groaned, eyes blinking and I compose myself. Everything went blank for a second there. I don't even remember throwing Damon to the ground.

"Some warning next time, Ziva?" Damon asked weakly, pulling himself up. He didn't dare touch me, and though I apologized, we both knew that I was far from being able to willingly touch him.

"Probably just tension," I mutter, and he nods.

"Baby okay?" He asked, and I nod again, a hand on my abdomen, as if reassuring myself.

He sighs, "I'm going to walk you to the house and then I have to go. Work," He cocks his head to his car, "Uh, tell Tony, I can drop off the kids after school ends."

"I'll remember," I say firmly, trying to figure out why I had blanked out. It bothered me, but I tried to push that away for now. Stressing would not help me.

Damon walks me to the door, smiling, "Under normal circumstances, I usually give you a heck of a kiss, but considering your current state," He hesitates, "I think it might be best if we just uh, go our separate ways."

"Yes," I nod, agreeing

"For now," Damon adds hurriedly and I chuckle, pressing the doorbell.

"Thank you for taking me home," I add softly

Damon nods, "Yeah, well, call me when you feel better Ziva." He smiles warmly at me and walks away. I stare at him for a second before the door opens and I see Tony on the other side. Almost foolishly, I look straight into his eyes, which are currently green. But only for a second before I focus again,

"Hey," Tony smiles at me, "Glad to see you made it in one piece." He opens the door wider and I walk in, feeling out of place in my silly sheep shirt and pink pajama bottoms.

"Uh, Abby and Gibbs are entertaining the babies," Tony explains, glancing at his watch, "I'll lead you to your room and then I'll be back at lunch-time."

I think about protesting that I am not tired after days of resting at a hospital. But Tony gives me a look that makes me decide to save my protestations for a different battle.

My room is a nice one. There's a bed, the largest bed I've ever seen, with a white, almost fluffy bedspread and it invitingly draws me into its covers. But first, I need to take a shower. I smell like blood and hospital alcoholic santizer.

"Whoa, where are you going?" Tony stops me by grabbing my wrist. It sends the same tingles up and down my arm and I stare at him. He chuckles,

"Sweetheart, you need rest."

"I want to take a shower first." I explain

"Oh." Tony drops his hand, "Well, uh," He mumbles something and I stop him, curious.

"Tony, hold this hand." I give him the same hand that Damon touched. Tony obliges, though there is a puzzled expression on his face.

"Now," I nod, feeling only the flushed warmth that grows in my body whenever Tony touches me, "Take your other hand and try to touch my shoulder."

"Why?" Tony asked warily, suspicious

"Just do it." I tell him, annoyed

He does so, and he touches my shoulder lightly. Shaking his head, he grins at me,

"Ziva, you're supposed to touch _my_ shoulder."

"Huh?" I look at him blankly, confused.

Tony laughs and puts my free hand on his shoulder and moves the hand that once rested on mine, to the small of my back. Humming a tune that I recognize, though the song title escapes my head, he leads me.

I am dancing with Tony. He is actually rather good at it, and he laughs,

"You remember the song, Ziva?"

"I know the tune." I imitate it for him, as proof and he smiles,

"Yeah, it's uh, Sinatra. Called _You Go To My Head_. We danced to it at our wedding," Tony explains, still absently dancing with me, "Our first dance as husband and wife, you know?"

I nod, caught in his gaze. I remember the song from the radio. It was never one of my favorites, but Tony had always been a fan of Frank Sinatra.

"You go to my head," Tony sings softly, almost hauntingly and drops his hand, wrapping his arms around me, and I do the same, "And you linger like a haunting refrain…"

It is almost like I'm back in high school doing a middle school slow dance with the cute boy of the moment. But I never felt this bubble of contentment around these boys. Mostly just their sweaty hands.

"And I find you spinning 'round in my brain," Tony sings softly for me, his stubbled jaw against my cheek.

As he sings, I think about how unreal it is that I truly am dancing with Tony. That I truly did have a life with Tony. Otherwise, why would I feel like smiling whenever does something like hold me in his arms?

I never felt like that. Not before.

And I don't remember _why_ I should respond like this. Cutting Tony off from his embrace, (which I have discovered to be more addicting than any other addictive) I take a breath and in our silent glance, we know what has to happen. Or at least I hope he understands.

_Boundaries_.

After all, he is not my husband and I shouldn't want him. Not like this.

Tony's smile wobbles and he leaves me alone in the big room. I sink down on the bed, feeling as if I should've just rested my head on his neck.

----

**Make a statement about updating that won't occur until a week after the fact…Check**

**Talk unnecessarily about the latest NCIS episode and how adorable Mortimer is…Check**

**Cry about the fact that NCIS got rid of the corgis (my dog was a corgi, so I view this as a personal insult. Also, it's really creepy that they got rid of them two weeks after my dog died…just saying)…Check**

_**Chapter dedicated to Lucky Girl.**_

_**2001-2010**_


	5. Leaning

**Disclaimer: I disclaim**

**Chapter Five: Leaning**

*

I wake up with a lurch in my stomach. Feeling dizzy, I run toward the nearest door, thinking it to be the bathroom. However, my guess is proven inaccurate as I throw up on a pair of shiny heels and what I can only assume is a vacuum cleaner. But it could be a pod machine for all I know.

Wiping my mouth, I groan in half disgust at the ruined shoe. I can't believe I threw up on Prada. Glancing down at my flat stomach, I sigh and pat the baby within.

The nurse told me that there was a noninvasive procedure if I needed to know the paternity. She took my blood and left me wondering if I made the right choice. After all, my greatest fear right now is this baby's father.

_What if it's not the father I want?_

But I need answers. I have enough questions in my life now. I need the answers.

So many questions…

I close the closet door with the intention of finding some sort of cleaning product. Typically, I stick these under a bathroom sink and expected no different when I glanced under this brand new sink. Other than toilet paper, soap, toothbrushes, and a bottle of gin (unopened), there was no cleaning product of any kind.

I look at the gin, confused. It's not even my poison after all.

Setting it back, I get up and open another door. Instead, I come face to face with the toilet. At least _that_ hasn't changed too much.

A wave falls over me and I throw up again, groaning.

Footfalls come into the room and somebody holds up my hair, murmuring something as he rubs my back. Turning around, I nod at Gibbs gratefully.

"So you have afternoon sickness, huh Ziva?" Gibbs asks me warmly

I nod, leaning back, "I think it's gone now. It's very…sudden."

Gibbs chuckles and glances at me, "Shannon got her morning sickness at three in the morning. I'd spend the night holding up her hair and asking if she was done, only to find out it was a false alarm."

I laugh, my stomach feeling settled. And it should. I think that the baby emptied all of its contents.

*

The ball sails wide and narrowly passes the four year old, landing smartly into the net. A row of parents stand up and cheer for Josh Markowitz, Tony and McGee among them. Settling back into their fold-out chairs, McGee pulls Jett up into his lap, grabbing the grass strands away from his chubby little fists:

"No, Jetski, we don't eat grass." McGee explained with a chuckle, bouncing his son and causing the little boy to squeal. Tony smiled too, one of Jett's many adoring fans.

"Daddy! Daddy! Watch me!" Someone yells and Tony jerks up, scanning the crowd of Tigers for his son. David is still on the bench, his hand on his chin as his bottom lip sticks out. Tony waves to him, but David does not notice.

"How's Ziva?" McGee asks, tearing his eyes off the game. David and Katie both play for the Green Grasshoppers. Sophie is two months too young (but is happily dancing her heart out at present) to play soccer.

Gracie is currently on the field, and Tony can see Damon cheering her on, complete with his video camera. Typically, Ziva stands with Damon screaming in Hebrew. Tony hated the liberties Damon would take with her, touching her shoulder or her waist, or leaning in to whisper something into her ear.

They both studiously avoided looking at each other. Abby was the only one that 'crossed sides'.

"Oh, Katie's got the ball!" McGee stills Jett and stands up, turning into McDad, "Car-Careful Katie! Pass! PASS!" Jett whimpers because of how tightly McGee is holding him and Tony lightly takes the baby away from his anxious father.

Katie has a look of intense concentration on her face, carefully dribbling the ball. However, she is the smallest person on the field and (having half of McGee's genetic matter) prone to falling. McGee is worried that one of the big boys (if you can call a six year old that) will kick her in the face.

However, Katie also has Abby's gumption and Tony's not too worried about her. He holds Jett in his lap, flattening down the baby's few strands of brown hair. Jett happily explores Tony's jacket, a vast collection of buttons and zippers for babies to play with. Tony absently strokes Jett's back as he watches Katie cautiously dribble her way down the field before passing the ball off to Gracie.

McGee sinks down with relief (that his daughter is no longer a target) and she glares, mortified, at him. He had, after all, been yelling for her to pass the ball.

"Tim, she's not a wimpy kid like you." Tony tries to point out, "She can take a few bruises."

"I would rather she didn't. At all," McGee corrects, and he lets out a cheer as Gracie shoots the ball into a wide arc and it lands in the net. Tony cheers as well, but he cannot miss how Damon's whoop seemed to transcend everyone else's.

"Oh good, they're benching her." McGee noted, "I don't know how I'm going to let her do this again. Soccer is so dangerous."

Tony rolls his eyes. McGee had tried to convince Katie to do ballet with Sophie, but she wanted to get down and dirty with some shin pads and a soccer ball.

"She's fine. In fact, she's actually one of the better players when you aren't here." Tony commented

"She is not." McGee countered, "Give me my son back,"

Tony grunts, handing over the gurgling baby. Glancing up, he realizes that David is being switched out with Katie. He lets out the obligatory parental cheer for his son. David nods, grinning at him.

"So, how's Operation Romancing Ziva going?" McGee asks, as a time out is sounded by the White Ninja Warriors. The Green Grasshoppers also huddle up and Tony glances at McGee, still playing out that small dance with Ziva.

"I danced a little with her. Sinatra. She seemed to like it, but…" He sighed, "She froze up."

McGee nods, "Well it's scary."

"I'm scary?" Tony asks, his eyebrows knitted

"No, you idiot. She's pregnant with a kid, _had_ a life with you, and is currently _supposed_ to be with Damon. But you're trying to win her back and she's very confused." McGee bounces Jett lightly, "Abby says you haven't told her why."

Tony scowls, "I haven't. But I will,"

"You should. _Before_ somebody else does," McGee explains softly, his eyes on Tony. They are like Jett's eyes, nearly matching the color of the sky though far more piercing.

"How am I supposed to explain something that didn't mean anything when she didn't believe me the first time?" Tony asked, "I was drunk, I would've kissed _you_…" He trailed off, "I missed her…" He shook his head, "And now, she doesn't even have the memories of what we _used_ to be. You know, before now and after we were partners,"

Someone blows a whistle and McGee turns back to Tony, "She trusts you Tony. And she'll still trust you _when_ you tell her."

Tony nods and turns to cheer David, rooting even louder as he watches his son try to make a goal, and miss. David hasn't made a goal all season, but at least he's getting there. Katie's only good game was the singular one where McGee was otherwise occupied by his anniversary with Abby.

At least, Tony mused, at the end of the season, David would get a trophy. Too bad life wasn't like that.

*

"Then I'm _k'zout_" Sophie explains to me, doing a pirouette. I clap, grinning. Her hair is in an unraveling bun and she is wearing a pink leotard and glittery pink skirt. Beaming, Sophie dances all around the kitchen as I smile at her.

"Very good, my _doushka_." I say warmly, reminding myself to compliment Sophie and use pet names. I could watch her for hours, drawing out the bits of her that are me and the bits that remind me of others. She's got a small swagger that is Ari down to the pinky toe, even.

"And _zachora-"_ Ziva stiffens for Sophie has asked her to remember (albeit in the wrong tense), "_mon excutin de ballet eem wotre!_" She beams

I frown, mentally translating that three times. I _think_ she just told me to remember her ballet recital with me, but I am not certain.

"Am I in your recital, Sophie?" I ask, thinking I did not understand her

She nods, beaming, "_Immahout_ _et hijas danse!_" She presents first position to me and I smile, though it is frozen as I frantically wait for a break in order to call Abby and ask about a mothers and daughters dance recital.

I haven't done ballet since I was eight years old, chosen to be one of the little swans in _Swan Lake_. I practiced for three weeks, eschewing even Wahid's tempting offers of stickball and sneaking into football games, determined to be the best little swan there ever was. My part was fairly minor, but to me, I felt like the entire ballet would be ruined if I didn't memorize my part _just_ right.

There were four of us Little Swans. We used to meet up at Tikvah's house because her mother was a professional dancer who refurbished their basement into a dancer's dream. Tikvah would remain one of my close friends, along with Rahel and Marva.

Papa came at the last minute and I messed up my step. It was only a slight one, out of surprise. But I berated myself for it. The rest of my performance was flawless. Beaming, I accepted Ari's roses, my mother's pride, and Tali's awe. I look around for my father, and my mother's face falls slightly, knowing what I am going to ask.

"He needed to leave, but he thought you were _wonderful_, _shaya maidel_."

I grip my flowers tighter as Ari puts his jacket around me, giving me a tight hug. Tali chatters on, blissfully unaware of how sad I am that Papa couldn't congratulate me.

I was convinced that he saw my little mis-step, that he knew about my small mistake. I was not worthy of his recognition, I thought.

But I kept dancing. He never came to another recital. And after a while, it came to be too much. I hung up my dancing shoes but kept the friends. However, Rahel died on her first and only day as Mrs. Shmuel Rubenstien, and a similar fate met Marva (only she was not married).

I still had Tikvah though, but it is too late to call her now because of the time difference. I've been waiting on pins and needles to call Tikvah, figure out what she knows.

I hope I'm still friends with her.

What a horrifying thought, the idea that I might not be friends with Teek!

"_Imma_?" Sophie interrupts my train of thought and I smile back at her, feeling slightly unsettled,

"I was just trying to remember my dance steps." I explain, grinning at her, "Do you wanna show me?"

Sophie giggles and shakes her head, "I'm _tired_ of dancing. I vant snack apple."

At least that sentence was all in English, I muse.

"Okay, you can have an apple." I tell her, "Now tell Mommy all about school, _tateleh_." I add, remembering to keep up a conversation with her, to ask questions.

Sophie says something in a mixture of Italian and Russian, but I manage to keep up, slicing her apples neatly before putting the knife back. I do not have to think twice about where the things are in the kitchen. And I _know_ what is in each room. Or what _should_ be in each room. But I cannot form these knowings into images. Just _feelings_ or a very good gut instinct.

I place her plate in front of her and she stares at me, confused. Have I messed up?

"What about my milk chocolate, _Imma_?" She asked piteously, "_Vous tamid _wive _moi_ milk chocolate."

"I was just about to get your chocolate, princess." I correct her softly. She narrows her eyes and I wince as well. _Princess_ is Tony's word for her. I have heard him use it before. However, she lets it slide and happily eats her apples. I give her the customary glass of chocolate milk and she gives me a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

"I love you, Mama." She declares, eyes bright

"I love you too, Sophia Jenny." I smile back at her, stroking her hair and resisting the urge to fix her unraveling bun.

"You fix my hair now." Sophie reminds me, and slowly she smiles, "Mami's being silly!" Her eyes sparkle and I realize that she thinks my lack of memory is really me teasing her.

"I sure am, _ma petite_," I fix her hair, realizing that I should follow my instincts.

*

"Yafa, wear this one." Eli insists to his wife. He is nervous tonight. All week, he has been thinking about Ziva. Yafa has noticed his distraction, but assumed it was because of her latest results. The cancer was stronger.

He tried to put her off, but she insisted on going to see her baby and her baby's babies. Eli hoped that Yafa would not realize that Ziva had been in a car accident and essentially lost ten years of her life. She was stuck in Somalia.

Somalia was the beginning. That was when Ziva stopped calling her mother as well as other relatives. Yafa began giving Eli a cold shoulder, going so far as to not even serve him dinner when he came home. He knew why she was upset. After all, she lost Tali and now she was losing Ziva.

Eli smiled sadly, looking at a worn photo of Ziva and Tali. Little Tali was in her pretty tutu and Ziva was arranging her hair, a rare smile on his usually so-serious eldest daughter.

"_Kapara_," Yafa tells him affectionately, accepting the coat he holds out, "I haven't talked to our _Zivaleh_ in a long time." She frowns, "But why is that _shegetz_ coming?"

Eli sighs, knowing that by 'Gentile manwhore' she is referring to Tony, his daughter's former husband. Knowing that he can neither put down nor defend Tony, he settles for a mumble as he helps Yafa with her coat.

Tonight, it will be the two of them, Ziva, Tony, the McGees, and Mr. Gibbs from what Eli understands. Yafa will enjoy it, as she adores the babies and Jethro as well. They will distract her enough should Ziva strike Yafa as 'odd'. Eli hopes to pull Ziva aside, explain things to her.

He still remembers the day she came back to him after he broke down and wrote her letters. She finally read one of them. After many, many, many hours of therapy, they managed to create a somewhat healthy relationship. However, Tony remains one of many obstacles, but for Yafa's sake does Eli tolerate Tony's constant shadow in Ziva's life.

Tony called him when Ziva was first hospitalized. He had done it for Yafa's sake, Eli knew. Both men knew how much Ziva and Yafa needed each other, especially now that Yafa is dying. But now everything was different with Ziva. He could only hope that Yafa wouldn't realize it. Than again, she did give birth to their daughter.

*

Dinner.

I am having dinner with a large amount of people. Abby is showing me how the kitchen works, and I have already forgotten the details of half the gadgets. But there are manuals and shortcuts. I just need time to process it. Perhaps tomorrow.

Sophie is in the living room, brushing the hair of her half-mangled doll. Smeeka (which I now realize comes from _shmeh-cka_, the Hebrew for Blankie) is tucked securely on her lap as she hums to herself.

Tal is watching Abby show me the kitchen. He's followed me around all day, the same half-puzzled look on his face. Every time I try to pick him up, he shies away from me, giggling.

Sometimes he signs to me, and though I understand him, I still don't quite have the hang of _how_ to talk to my children. But I'm trying. I don't think I've ever tried so hard.

My parents are coming tonight. My mother doesn't know about my recent memory lapse. It's hard for me to think of her as dying. Abby says that the doctors have only given her eight more months. But she's not wasting a minute of these months.

From what I understand, she wants to be in the kids' lives as much as possible while she still can. I understand that.

David comes home, stomping upstairs. He is upset. I don't think he's realized that Mommy is home again. Tony follows him, carrying different sorts of children's sized bags. Sophie greets him happily, showing off her pirouettes. He admires her profusely, but his eyes lock to mine.

I dart back to Abby, who only has a small smirk on her face.

"You know what? I'll finish up. You should ask Tony about David." She gestures over to Tony, "And I need to make a quick call to McGee. It's chilly and I want him to make sure that the kids wear their coats."

I nod, feeling like I'm back in high school again and the cute boy is headed in my direction. Only this time, I'm walking toward my ex-husband.

Tony smiles when he sees me coming his way. Sophie is still dancing, unaware of the fact that she no longer has an audience. I hear Abby calling her away, but all I can think about is the thrumming in my heart and the way he held me when we were dancing.

"David's team lost," Tony explains softly, glancing upstairs where David is, "The little guy's upset because he kept missing the goal."

"Right, he does football." I nod, recalling that from a conversation somewhere.

Tony hesitates, "I tried to make him feel better, but I think I made it worse." He glances at me and I realize what he is about to ask. I cannot do it, as I barely know how to talk to a _happy _David.

"But he's a tough kid, he'll bounce back." Tony finishes with a soft smile, "How were Sophie and Tal?"

"Good. Quiet," I smile, nodding

Tony nods again, almost stiff. His hands are in his pocket and I feel a new tension enter the room. Sighing, he groans and flops back on a couch,

"This is what it felt like when we first got divorced." Tony makes a face, "Zee, I have to tell you something."

I sit down too, confused. There's a look on Tony's face that I can't quite identify.

"First of all," Tony sighs, "We-uh-" He groans, messing up his hair. He is clearly uncomfortable. I smile, half amused to see him like this.

"Yes?" I tease

Tony grins, hearing the lilt in my voice. "I miss this part of you," He reaches over and takes my hand. Warmth creeps all over my body as if I am suddenly next to a roaring fire. Hesitating, I sit closer to him. My knee is now touching his, and he is still holding my hand, stroking it.

It makes me feel lightheaded, as if I am aboard that airplane and paratrooping into Iran again (an 'off the books' favor for Interpol).

"When we got married, we were really in love." Tony explains softly, his warm blue eyes latched onto mine. I cannot look away from him now,

"How did we fall in love?" I ask before he can continue

Tony stops himself and chuckles, "It was a gradual thing. We both fell for the other person and neither of us admitted it because of Rule Twelve."

"Right." I nod, "Never date a co-worker."

Tony smiles, "That's the one. We didn't mess around or anything because of that." He hesitates, "But everything changed after Somalia."

I nod, "So I fell in love with you after Somalia?"

Tony nods, "Yeah…yeah, you did."

My mind is whirling and I wish, for the millionth time, that I could remember everything. Except for divorcing Tony. Because…well, because it feels so-I can't even describe how _good_ it feels just to sit next to him. No, not good, but _familiar_, in some odd way. And that familiarity is comforting.

"I realized that I loved you when you left-" Tony starts to explain before shaking his head, "I mean, when _I_ left you in Israel."

A memory that I recall with too much ease, remembering Gibbs as he turned away from me to choose Tony. But now I can understand _why_ he chose Tony. Tony never gave Gibbs a reason not to trust him, and I'd given our beloved boss every reason not to trust me.

"You didn't leave me," I assure him, thinking of that legendary scene in Casablanca. "I left you. It is one of the stupidest mistakes I made, I think."

Tony laughs shortly, his eyes soft, "Really?"

I nod, "But ah-not you in particular. But NCIS. I should have gone with Gibbs, but Michael-" I pause again, feeling uncomfortable. After all, it does not come naturally for me to talk about Michael Rivkin.

Tony stops me, "I know, Ziva. You really loved him. And when he died, you felt like everyone was against you."

I smile shakily, "Yes."

Tony nods, looking sober, "When I saw you in Somalia, you were thin and bloody and small. Almost frail. You told me later that it was a sign,"

I look at him, confused

Tony chuckles, half amused by this memory, "Six months after you were rescued, you told me that when I said I couldn't live without you, you knew that was it."

"It?" I ask

Tony shrugs, "The moment when you realized that we weren't going to be as tragic as Rick and Ilsa." He paused, "You were afraid that if we got into a real relationship…it'd turn into a tragedy like all of the other ones."

I smile, his words catching up with me. He is speaking far too fast, but I can understand what he is explaining to me.

I turn to him, "You can't live without me?"

Tony glances at me with a brief grin, "Still true today."

"If you love me and I love you, because I _think_ I do," I say softly, frowning, "Then why are we divorced?"

Tony sighs, rubbing his jaw, "That's what I was originally going to tell you, but you distracted me with your questions." He smiles sadly and opens his mouth.

However, the doorbell rings and Tony closes it, still smiling sadly,

"That'll be the beginning of your guests. But I will explain after dinner." He hesitates, "You ready for your parents?"

"No." I answer honestly, with a small grin, "But I will manage."

Tony sighs, "Great. Ah, and please don't listen to anything your mother says about me…" His voice trails off, "I really will explain the _truth_ after."

I nod, feeling confused and unsettled by Tony's ambiguity. To my surprise, when I rise up and away from the couch, I am greeted by a pretty girl with wavy brown hair that barely touches her shoulders and sparkly brown eyes, Michael's eyes.

Clearly, she is an Israeli, and from Sophie's squeal of: "Galit!" I know that this is little Galit all grown up.

Behind her is a tall boy with a thin frame and a broad smile on his face. His light brown hair is trimmed in the classic grunt style and he looks as if he can't shave yet.

"Dwayne's out to dinner with the wife, boss." He informs Tony, "But he sends his regards to you, Director." He nods to me and hesitates, "I'm uh, Josh Cooper."

I nod, having a vague memory of him from when we were working the Sharif case, "It is nice to see you again, Agent Cooper."

He appears thrown by my formality and I hesitate, "Or do I call you all by your first names?" I ask, looking toward Tony

Tony chuckles, "Usually you do. Cooper is my Junior Field Agent, and Galit-" Tony hesitates, "is in your old place."

"Big shoes to fill, as you told me." Galit informs me, grinning. She now has Sophie in her arms, and I cannot get over how _mature_ Galit looks. But it is still her to be sure. She may have grown several feet and lost her braces along the way, but I recognize her.

"Cooper's here?" Abby's voice rings out, "Tell him to come here!"

Josh groans, "Abby's here?" He loosens his tie, "What have you broken _now_?" He demands to her and Tony chuckles, looking at me,

"Cooper is basically a McGee 2.0, for lack of a better word." He smiles, "I'll get Sophie ready for dinner and you should show Ziva the outside. She hasn't seen it yet, Gali."

He smiles warmly at her and Galit laughs, handing Sophie to Tony. She smiles and warmly hugs me, a hug which I return.

Pulling back, Galit pushes her hair behind her ear, "You must be so-" Galit cuts herself off, "I can't even _imagine_." Breaking off again, she smiles nervously, "The kibbutz in Ashdod was bombed five years ago. I was in my last year of IDF duty, the Air Force," She sighs, "And I lost everyone."

I start, "But Tikvah?"

"She lives in Haifa now. Remarried the year before the bombing," Galit explains, "She's fine. Wants you to call her though,"

I laugh, "I want to call her as well." My eyes soften, "You came here."

"You are all the family I have left, Ziva." Galit sighs, "So I finished my obligations to Israel and came here. I will be an American soon and an official agent after that," She grins, "But for now, I am, as you say, a probie."

I laugh and hug Galit again, wondering if she knows the truth about Tony.

She leads me to a porch swing that overlooks my backyard.

I sit down in the swing, thinking that it looks a lot like the one I had growing up in Tel Aviv. Only there, I would look out into the ocean and inhale the tangy salt in the air.

Here, I am on a wood balcony that descends down into grassland. Children's toys are strewn everywhere and I restrain the urge to pick them up. There's a small pool to one side that is shaped a bit like a turtle. It is also fenced off from the rest of the yard, and there is a small (to my horror) sand pit with swings on it. Ugh, sand attracts cats.

Not that I hate cats.

It's just that there are a lot of cats in Israel. And Tali befriended every single one. And she refused to let any of us shoo them away. She'd feed them, sing to them, and give each one a name, despite our protests. After all, most of these cats were half feral.

But she continued on, despite my father's conviction that she'd come down with rabies and Ari's threats to kill the cats with C-4. In the end, nobody had the heart to actually go through with killing Tali's cats.

But when she died, it was like open season on all things feline. Catnip was removed and there weren't any milk bowls outside our doorstep. The meowing got so bad that we let Ari

'take care' of them. After that, nothing with fur dared dawn our doorstep.

And now when I see a cat, my baby sister pops up in my mind. I can't bring myself to 'take care' of one, but I don't want to see them either.

But I suppose America is different from Israel, not having so much of a cat problem.

"I came to kill your husband." Galit admits softly, looking at me, "You didn't know that I knew."

"Oh Galit." I breath, astonished

She sighs, "He killed my brother, _Zaviva_. I felt-" She broke off, glancing at me

I nodded. I knew what she meant. I was given the honor of helping to kill Tali's killer. It was done out of a sense of justification: correcting a wrong in the world.

"How did you change your mind?" I ask softly

"He told me himself." Galit admitted, "It was actually the first conversation I had with him. He told me why…" Galit paused, "Why my uncle was killed and he apologized for it. And he told me that it was one of the things that he regretted most in his life."

"Why?" I ask, my brows furrowed

She sighs, "Because he thought that he lost you." She smiles sadly, "What can I say, Ziva? I'm an old romantic. And I didn't want to be responsible for killing the guy that you love."

"I love Tony?" I ask her, "How do you know that, Galit?"

She laughs, "Well, you married the guy, Ziva. There's probably a wedding video somewhere if you don't believe me."

"Where did we get married?" I ask on impulse

Galit chuckles, smiling at me, "At the David. Your parents went a little overboard,"

I chuckle, a little surprised. The David Citadel in Jerusalem is basically Israel's Plaza when it comes to weddings. I can't picture myself wearing a wedding dress and marrying Tony. It is just…not believable.

"You were freaking out that day," Galit chuckles, "Doctor called and told you to expect a baby within seven months."

I laugh, "Did Tony know?"

Galit shook her head, "He was the last one to find out. Nettie was the first one, so you know how it goes," Galit grins again and I understand what she means. Aunt Nettie, I love her to death, but she is nothing but a _yenta_.

"Tony found out from you after the ceremony, when you went in that little room to eat." Galit explains softly, "He did an orthodox wedding for your mom."

I blink, "He converted?"

"Your mother _thinks_ he did." Galit drawls, chuckling, "You never cared yourself. Besides you're a terrible Jew,"

"Ah, that's true." I admit, the swing swinging back and forth, "What do you think of the kids?"

Galit smiles, "They're great kids."

"I worry about them." I admit softly, "Tal not talking, Sophie with her blanket. And David…I just worry about him," I sigh, unable to explain it better

"I think that every parent feels that." Galit shrugs, "I don't know though. You should talk to Tony about the kids. But I can tell you that you're a great mom."

I nod, chuckling, "And what about us, _Gali_? I hope we are still close."

"Very much so." Galit smiles, "I usually babysit the kids when you have a meeting or something after the typical work hours. That's usually once or twice a week, really. And we usually text each other all day about what the other person is doing."

I chuckle, smiling at her, "Do I talk to Tony, I mean…" I shake my head, "What is my relationship with Tony at work?"

"Professional." Galit said, gazing at me, "Cordial, civil, any other words that sound like those."

I sigh, unable to see that. Tony and I have _never_ engaged in a work-relationship with any of the words she's using for more than an hour or two.

I open my mouth to ask her about the divorce, but Tony pops his head in and asks us to come in. My parents are here.

_Oy_

*

Yafa hands Tony her coat, eyes narrowed as she takes in her former son in law. Tony takes her coat and hangs it up, a smile on his face that couldn't fool anyone. Eli has one hand protectively over Yafa's back, skillfully leading her toward Tal, who will distract Yafa with ease.

Eli shakes Gibbs hand, nodding vaguely as Gibbs glances over at Yafa, "She's having one of her better days."

"Good." Gibbs nods

"How's Mexico?" Eli asks, shoving his hands into his pocket. He can hear Ziva in the kitchen with some other female voices. But his eyes are on Yafa, who is playing with her grandsons.

Gibbs smiles vaguely, "Same." He jerks his head toward the kitchen, "She's getting anxious."

"Lot of guests." Eli commented. He had thought it would only be him and Yafa. He didn't realize that there was a party.

"Lot of people worried about her." Gibbs takes a swig of his beer as a pause settles over the two men. Breaking through the tension, Gibbs adds: "Tony's trying."

Eli sucked in a breath and went to join his wife. Gibbs takes another sip of the beer, upset, though he knew what the name would do to Eli David. Tony was a deal-breaker. Other than that, he could be civil to the other father figure in his little girl's life.

*

Dinner at the David household is full of tension. At one end, the children are gathered together, giggling and oblivious to the adults' worried glances. Gracie's braids are loosening and David dumps the rest of his dinner on the floor, where Abby's faithful dog, Jethro, happily vacuums it up. Yafa has Tal on her lap while Jett sits in the high chair, as Tim has forgotten to bring one for his son.

However, it distracts Yafa from talking _too_ much with Ziva. Everyone else is all too aware of the facts and tries to keep their smiles pasted on. Jeanne is seated next to Tony, smiling absently at Sophie who giggles and shares secrets with Katie over the chicken fingers. Jett babbles on and Abby is happy to be with the children, feeding her son, instead of having to be awkward.

Damon sits next to Gracie, cutting her chicken (as well as David's when he asks) and Eli asks Damon about his security company. Ziva sits between Gibbs and her mother, listening to the muted conversations though her eyes are on her little boy.

"Oh, he's got our eyes." Yafa smiles at her daughter, smoothing down Tal's hair, "I can never get over that, _Zivaleh_."

Ziva smiles, "Me too."

Yafa looks up at her daughter, eyebrows raised, "I am surprised, actually."

Conversations seem to still when she declares that and Ziva smiles nervously, taking a sip of her water to clear her throat.

"Oh?"

"Usually you demand to know how I am feeling, the latest news, all those things." Yafa explains with a chuckle, "Does this mean that my daughter is accepting?"

"Accepting what?" Ziva asks, confused

Yafa looks at her curiously, "That I stop the treatments, the hospital visits, everything."

"What?" Ziva stares at her before opening her mouth to ask something when someone else interjects.

"Ziva knows you stopped the treatments," Eli says to Yafa, smiling though it doesn't reach his eyes, "She remembers that you only have four more months to live." His voice hitches as he skillfully delivers the news to Ziva who blinks again and swallows,

"Oh _Imma_," Ziva's eyes fill up and she embraces Yafa, "You are sure?"

Tal blows a raspberry and Yafa chuckles, looking at Ziva with a smile on her worn face,

"I am very sure, my dear. Otherwise, I would listen to your father." Yafa kisses Tal on the forehead, "I want to be with my family now, right _Toulouse_?" She teases Tal who gives her a big smile. It is evident that _Bubbe_ is Tal's favorite.

Ziva smiles shakily and Tony speaks up, knowing Ziva just may lose it.

"So does everybody want to hear about the soccer game? Pretty good one this time, right?" Tony directs his last comment to McGee who looks up from feeding Jett. David slouches in his seat as Katie and Gracie happily talk over each other about their victory.

*

My voice hitches again as I hug my mother good night and take Tal from her. She still smells like the oranges in our backyard. Her face is wizened and her gray hair is swept up in a bun with a shiny gold clip. But it is my mother with the same warm brown eyes that I have, as well as Tal.

Ari's were darker, like Papa's and Tali had fierce blue eyes with streaks of gold in them. David has those eyes too, and I am glad that they were not lost with Tali. However, it is hard for me to look at my mother and think that she is going to die soon.

"_Imma_," I start, feeling powerless. She smiles warmly at me, squeezing her hands around my arm softly. She is a few centimeters shorter, I am certain, and much thinner than I remember. My father, who is also much changed, has not ventured more than ten feet away from her and it surprises me to see how he has changed.

After all, I'd often fall asleep, listening to their fights over how he needed to be more involved with his family.

"You will come for Shabbat this week, _tateleh_." She insists, "And not the _shegetz_." She nods vaguely to Tony who is laughing with Jeanne.

Jeanne. When she came in and greeted me, I felt out of sorts. After all, I did not know the woman, never having really met her. She was just a pretty picture to me and on our one meeting, we did not interact. Instead, she attempted to blame Tony for her father's murder and Tony-

I still remember the look of agony on Tony's face when she came into the bullpen and he didn't know what to do, what to say, whether to confess his true feelings. His eyes found mine and I found myself telling him, as not just a partner or a friend, but somebody who _cared_, who knew how disastrous it'd be for them to come together. But they were together now.

They are friends, according to Tony, but it is evident that Jeanne wants more, expects more even.

She patiently played ballerina with Sophie, letting my little girl try out her chunky jewelry and the makeup in her bag (non-toxic, Jeanne assures me). I don't wear that kind of jewelry, except on special occasions, though I am bearing my Star of David. Sophie has a matching one, I've noticed.

The kids seem to like her enough and I decide not to intervene, question Jeanne's place. At least for now. She could, after all, be just what Tony claims: a friend. I do not do it often, but sometimes one can misread innocent signs of friendship.

But why is my mother calling Tony a _shegetz_? It is not a term to be used lightly after all.

As I dwell on it, my parents leave and I am grateful that I did not have too much contact with my father. I keep thinking of that day when I kept going, despite Malachai's protests. It was suicide and I did it anyway.

"Hey," Damon comes up to me, a tuckered out Grace on his shoulder. I smile warmly, as Gracie is also a sweet little girl. She ran up and hugged me once I came within her sight, requesting that I might fix her mangled hair. Damon followed her to me, looking sheepish. But we seemed to agree silently not to bring up my moment of irrational self defense.

"I'm taking this one to bed." He takes a deep breath, "Call me?"

I nod, "I will. Are phones still the same as I remember?"

He laughs shortly, "How about I just find you tomorrow when you drop the kids off?" He hesitates, "We should talk, Ziva."

I nod, "Yeah."

It is only the vague glance that he sends to my belly that reminds me _why_ it is important to keep Damon in my life. At least for now.

Because I can't do it yet. I can't do the test yet. The what-ifs are too scary to even think about for me.

And this baby is barely a fetus as it is.

I close the door behind him, and end up exchanging good-byes with pretty much everyone else. Galit, a few agents, the McGees, a dog, and almost David, by accident. He just giggles, and I hug him tightly, kissing him on the head.

Jeanne left with the crowd, though I didn't notice. Tony looks at me with David, smiling in a way that I haven't seen him smile before. Then I realize that I am smiling too. Something about holding your son in your arms can make you smile. Or perhaps it is the father that has this inscrutable ability over me.

I release David and he only turns around to hug me, "I missed you, Mommy." He says, his voice muffled in the embrace. I smile again though it turns smaller as I tell him that I missed him as well. I did not miss him before, after all. How could I have forgotten him? Such a beautiful boy.

"There he is. I'm going on bathtub duty and the two of you can go on and clean your kitchen." Gibbs says, having Tal in his arms and Sophie wrapped around his leg. Despite that, he looks more comfortable with the hanger-ons than Ziva can ever recall.

David giggles and follows them up the stairs. All the kids are cheering and chattering happily to Gibbs, calling out certain phrases like "Splash Monster!" and "Bubblestachies" that Ziva doesn't recognize

Tony sighs, "I don't know how Gibbs does it, but he makes these kids excited to take a bath. And Ziva, our children hate bathtime."

I chuckle, thinking about my childhood. I have never thought so much about my childhood as I have now, with these kids. All my old memories seem to spill to the front.

I still remember the time that Wahid and I went exploring through the woods. Somehow, we'd gotten muddy from head to toe and my mother hosed us down in the front yard in full view of everyone on the street. Wahid's mother was yelling in Arabic and we'd been giggling and screaming from the ice cold water. And we'd done it again the next day, much to the displeasure of our mothers.

That was one of the few times that my mother ever found it necessary to spank me.

"Anyway," Tony shoves his hands in his pockets, "We should talk about our, uh…" He sighs, as if unable to say the word divorce

I say it for him and he nods

"Yeah, that."

I am recalled by my mother calling Tony a _shegetz_ and it dawns on me.

He cheated on me.

I stare at him, feeling half betrayed. But I can see from the look in his eyes that he regrets it, that he didn't want to divorce me.

"You worked like crazy, Ziva." Tony sighs, "And you'd travel. And whatever time was left, you gave to the kids. I felt lonely and I handled it badly."

"You cheated on me," I whisper softly, able to understand why at least _I_ divorced him. A feeling of disgust is rising in my throat as a memory of Jeanne wishing me a good night comes to the forefront of my mind, "It was with _her_ wasn't it?"

"I kissed Jeanne," Tony begins and I close my eyes, not wanting to hear the rest.

"I don't want a play by play." I muster a smile, "Besides, what does it matter?"

Tony looks at me, confused

I sigh, "We are divorced. Clearly," I take a breath, "_Clearly_, this is an incident that we've both moved on from…me with Damon, you with Jeanne."

"Jeanne is just my friend." Tony counters quickly, "I'm not interested in her or any other woman. Don't you get it?" He laughs shortly, "You've ruined me for everyone else."

I can tell from the ferocity of his eyes that he is telling the truth. And the glow inside me is building and building, despite my mind commanding me to take control.

"And there is no play by play." He adds, "It was just a stupid drunken kiss between two friends. I didn't tell you about it and you divorced me because I lied by omission."

"Oh," I say softly, my heart hammering as I look at him and try to remember what kissing Tony is like. We did kiss. Once, a very, very, very long time ago when I was pretending to be my daughter's namesake, Sophia.

I was pregnant that time too. Only it'd felt as fake as this one feels. Except when it's morning and I'm heaving the contents of my stomach into the nearest toilet.

Tony takes another breath, "Please don't alienate me again, Ziva." His eyes are glassy, "I regret my actions and I hope you can at least try to keep your mind open this time."

I nod, feeling slightly better. But he was still her friend. Didn't that mean something? I feel like I did when we were up in the rafters, disarming a bomb and he all but admitted falling for a woman. Falling for her, actually.

I take a breath, "I feel funny when you're around."

Tony looks at me, worried, "Like you want to kill me?"

"No, I have had that feeling before." I tease him, though not really. There were moments when I truly did want to kill him.

Tony nods, "Like you need me?"

That is close, but it is not quite the meaning I am grasping for, "Different from that. It is more…" I sigh, "More of a _want_. It scares me, Tony."

Tony smiles, his eyes shining brighter than I have ever seen them. They are a radiant, almost glowing blue, like the color of the sky. He walks toward me and I take a step back, feeling unnerved.

After all, I shouldn't want him so much. I shouldn't feel like this. Not for _Tony_.

He stops, "Why does it scare you?"

"I-" I break off, "I don't know."

He nods, glancing up, "I'm going to say good-bye and go."

"Don't go." I tell him before I can think about it

He looks at me, "Ziva, are you sure?"

I am not sure and yet I am certain that I want him here. What if something happens that I cannot handle? I need Tony here.

"Stay." I tell him softly, "Stay for the night. Abby tells me that David has fallen into the habit of a certain nocturnal pattern."

"He has. I'll show you the ropes." Tony agrees, "And I'll warn you that Sophie's disgusting blanket is sopping wet in the bathtub with them right now."

I chuckle, though I am seized by fear inside. What if we can't get them to fall out of these phases?

Tony goes upstairs first and I watch him for a second, thinking about what my mother called him. I still think that 'manwhore' is a little strong, but my mother has always preferred her Yiddish.

I think I love a _shegetz_.

If this is love, anyway.

*

**I wish I could offer up a better excuse, but I can't. I've even slacked off in watching NCIS episodes (I actually recorded the last one instead of watching it and cursing the commercials like I usually do). Loved the whole bromance underplot, because I still feel bad for not really including that in my one shot (Not So Smooth Sailing) and I guess the writers felt the same way. After all, McGee and Tony are like the next Chandler and Joey (or as Joey would say: J-Man and Channy's).**

**I could cite this moronic online health class that I've had to do in order to graduate, in addition to all the other stuff that I'm doing in high school. Or the current panic attacks I am fielding right now as I try to figure out which college I want to go to out of the three that not only accepted me, but gave me enough money to actually attend.**

**But honestly, it was more a case of writer's block that developed as I tried to figure out how Tony would explain to Ziva that they divorced. How would Ziva feel? Could Tony go through with it? And despite my reluctance, I ended up introducing Galit a chapter early. So it's frustrating. And I think I made Ziva too cowed, but she's in practically a foreign environment! I overplayed certain points in the last chapters that frustrate me now. And I am now practically done with Damon, which is good for Betherezz.**

**And more than that, I'm still trying to figure out if I want Ziva to remember or not. It's so hard. I think I'm just in a position in my life right now where it is very difficult for me to make choices thanks to this stupid college triangle. I kinda wish I was my BF, who got accepted into Harvard, rejected from Yale, and happily had no choice to make.**

**Is this TMI? I really should start keeping a diary or something…but mostly I really am just so proud of her that I have to tell everybody we know including random people on the internet. But she's doing the same thing to me, ha ha ha.**

**With regard to Blank, I really, really, really, am not intending to put this on hiatus, because hiatus is code for: never updating this again ever. And I love this plot. In fact, this is my second attempt. The first one was Tony losing his memory, but I fizzled out after the first nineteen pages. This one, is so far, eighty something pages strong. I doubt I could make to another eighty, but I think what I'm going to do is fast forward about three months. That should make a few of you happy (those who have noticed my inability to have things move along faster…after all, I've only covered the space of about a week's time now).**

**There are still some secrets lying around, but now Ziva knows the most important one, which is good. But I just don't know if it'll end with her remembering or not. Both sides are debatable. Jeanne will come to an end, I'm just not sure how she will be leaving…except that she'll still be alive and healthy.**

**I don't know when I'll have another one up, but I think it'll be on May 1****st**** (because that's when all the deadlines I have in my life are happening anyway). That's not too bad. For me anyway, because I think I'm going to take my time writing this next chapter. It was murderous, having to do that dinner party scene. I erased it ten times and it's still bugging me.**

**But the good news is that there are other amnesia stories out there. I noticed a few of them the last time I was on the site. So, for those of you needing some more of this kind of plot, I'm sure you can find it if you search for them. That's what I did when I was trying to find a certain type of Harry Potter story (A seer who knows that her destiny is to marry Harry Potter's son).**

**Oh, and in honor of Yom HaShoah, so let me add one small message that this story, I hope, shows why it's so important:**

**_Never Forget_**


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